


The Devil Takes Care of His Own

by legendarytobes



Series: the devil and trixie espinoza [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: AU, Adult Trixie Decker, Alternate Universe, Angst, Body Horror, Gen, Trixie Decker & Lucifer Morningstar Bonding, Whump, devil body, post 3.24 a devil of my word
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-01 08:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20811740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendarytobes/pseuds/legendarytobes
Summary: Trixie feels out her new role with helping Maze take care of Lucifer, after a fashion, and, well, keeping him busy in New Orleans. She's even able to get him out a bit---by his circumscribed standards---and things seem to be going well, at least until her friend Cheryl returns to campus after leaving for a month to recover from the vampire attack...





	The Devil Takes Care of His Own

**Author's Note:**

> \---read parts 1&2 first! They're in order ;)
> 
> \---**Side note** \- the FH crew totally, coincidentally, had a discussion on exotic pets last night, but I'd actually, honestly, started writing about Beelzebub (you'll see) a bit earlier. Still, I'd love to see Trixie with all sorts of random pets. Ferrets come to mind too :P

**The Devil Takes Care of His Own**

“So…” Trixie said, and she’d gotten bored somewhere around the beginning of the third _Body Bags_ movie. She’d already seen them and all _The Weaponizers_ more than she should have with her dad. Maybe it was the parent version of revenge for a billion rewatches of _Frozen_. But she was super bored. “Do you want to go downstairs?”

The request probably would have sounded more serious if she weren’t slumming it in jeans with a few holes at the knees (not because she’d paid for the distressed look) and the same blue sweater she’d worn yesterday. Also, by now she was hanging upside down off the couch because the blood rushing to her head was way more interesting than Kimo Van Zant’s acting. _Seriously_ and she thought some of her Grandma Penelope’s movies were shitty.

They had nothing on the rapidly nosediving _Body Bags_ franchise.

Lucifer set their large communal bowl of popcorn (though he’d taken the lion’s share of it) on the cushions between them and frowned back at her. “Beg your pardon?”

She righted herself on the sofa because there was no way Trixie could convince Lucifer of anything when her head felt fuzzy from too much blood on her brain. Raking a hand through her hair, which, okay could use a wash because sometimes Mondays bled into Tuesdays depending on how much Lucifer wanted to binge or, sometimes, listen to on his actual record player because of course the Devil was one of _those_ guys who nattered on about the beauty of vinyl. And, okay, maybe she got caught up in stuff too, although when things really ran away from her into Tuesdays (she didn’t have class those days) was usually when she got Lucifer to tell her stories. He had lived most of his time in Hell, sure, but he’d also had a lot of vacations in the last six or so thousand years. If there was an interesting historical artist or figure, then there was a good chance that Lucifer had met them.

She tried not to think about the flipside of that. The clear possibility that in, being generous, about fifty percent of these cases, Lucifer had also probably slept with them.

Still, Monday hangouts over the last month entailed that her true weekends consisted of hanging in Lucifer’s den and had migrated to the beginning of the week. She was cool with that, but if she had to watch one more minute of a bad ‘90s action flick, she was gonna die of utter tedium.

“You heard me. We should go downstairs. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the parade as much as the next person, but it might be nice to be on the main floor just for happy hour and not be pummeled with the EDM at full blast, which makes it hard to talk.”

Lucifer considered her and drummed his claws against the steel of the popcorn bowl. “I don’t…at first I tried being down there at other hours. I’ve my own booth in the back.”  


She smirked a bit at that. “Built for wings?”

“It accommodates them well, but it felt…I was unsure.”

“Did you and Maze chill in the back glowering at people then? Talking shit about the customers in Lilim?” Trixie laughed a little and tried to keep the mood light. She’d been thinking of broaching this with Lucifer since he’d first scared the ever-loving shit out of her chemistry teacher. If he were motivated enough, he could go out and he would. He just needed a nudge. “There’s no point in people watching unless you can maybe mock a little too. Remind me to tell you about _People of Walmart_ sometime. I think you’d dig that site.”

“I reigned in Hell for eons, and nothing in my kingdom comes close to a big box store’s monotony. I shall pass, urchin,” he sniffed. “Are you bored?”

“G…Yes, but only because I hate these movies. Like all of them a lot.”

  
“These are classics of American cinema.”

“No, they’re the product of coked out studio executives about thirty years ago, and they wish they were as good as the average Steven Seagal movie. They have to _aspire_ to suck at that level. Lucifer, come on! You can be in your own bar when the show’s not on. I mean, if you were reluctant before because I guess Maze was more interested in tending bar, well, I’m here, and it would be okay.”

He kept drumming his claws against the bowl: _plink, plink, plink_. “I did not mean for you to develop cabin fever whilst visiting me. If it’s a chore, Beatrice, then I will happily let you out of our deal.”

She was skating that edge again, that line where Lucifer would go from self-effacing to maudlin. Her friend had been true to his word for the last four weeks and hadn’t taken anything out on her. Frankly, he’d been the consummate host and on his best, most charming behavior. But sometimes, when Monday night dragged on into the wee hours of Tuesday morning, he’d sometimes get unerringly quiet and stare off at nothing. Occasionally flinch---even if he thought she couldn’t tell---at something she’d say. Trixie assumed those times were when an expression she used from back home or a way she moved reminded him too much of her mom.

Possibly her dad too, but she figured those were what she’d decided to deem “detective moments.”

But this was the first time she’d really tried to prompt him to do more, to try and expand the circuit he ran from his quarters and the parade (on the nights he felt like doing it and not just shoving the Lilim into it in his place).

“That’s not what I meant. I…you can’t tell me you’re happy just in the same two rooms.”

“Fallacious statement. I’ve a washroom, and I do go to the club from midnight to close most nights. I move around four rooms then.” He shrugged and drew his hand back from tapping on the bowl. “Plus, a balcony, so I’m not suffering from a lack of space.”

She nodded and leaned a little closer. “True but think of me as your urchin-shaped buffer. The bar’s patrons expect weird shit all the time. That’s kind of the point of the _Tenebrae_ set up, right?”

“I thought it was quite clever, thank you.”

“And it was, very hide in plain sight. So, you know, you could do that? I mean, I’m not exactly looking my best here, either.”

Lucifer snorted. “You are the daughter and granddaughter of movie stars. Your worst would make most girls envious.”  


“Um grandma makes schlock for the Syfy Channel when she’s on a good streak, and mom made a bunch of Disney and like Hallmark stuff as a child actor, and ugh, we will _never_ speak of her one, theatrical movie. Like ever. Just nope.”

Lucifer smirked at her, clearly forgetting his mood at least for a moment. “It is the best film I’ve ever seen.”

“Eww, no. So, that’s it. You joked about the hot tubs that shall remain unspoken of.”

“You brought them up.”

“But,” she chirped, hopping up. “You totally overstepped so…come down with me. We’ll sit at a booth, drink, and I’ll snark on whoever comes in and is way too into New Orleans.”

“Mocking the local Goth population then, urchin?” he grumbled. But, much to her gratification, Lucifer did stand as well and pulled his wings in as tightly as he could. “Very well, spawn, but only because you’re tricky, and I had promised to avoid mentioning certain films that, while classics of cinema, are apparently unappreciated by the unwashed masses.”

“Just ugh, get down the stairs.”

**

“Who cooks here?” she asked, perusing the menu.

Lucifer leaned back in the booth, which was a stretch for the term. The large structure he sat in was constructed out of carved ebony and framed like a throne. If Trixie were a bit more brave, she’d ask if it were inspired by anything he’d ever sat in while in Hell. However, she’d already won a massive victory by getting him to come downstairs for happy hour and technically, while it was still daylight outside for at least the next hour or so. She wasn’t about to press her luck digging any further.

Lucifer passed the tumbler of Scotch between his hands. He’d already chugged a couple glasses since they’d come down. Overall, people had eyed him, and a couple had, as she suspected, come for selfies with one of the “stars” of the attraction, but with her here to talk to, they’d mostly let them be. Besides, the bar was relatively busy, and the staff was handling food and drink orders. It wasn’t as packed as it would be when the nightlife came alive or after the parade, but it was still bustling enough that most patrons didn’t care as much about the Devil in the corner as they did about the delay in getting their onion rings.

It was like she’d known since she’d been seven and patiently tried to explain a few times to her mom that Lucifer really was _that_ Lucifer---people saw what they wanted to see.

“The staff’s mostly human. Whilst Maze, Taka, and Ezzekeen will tend bar when they feel like it, the rest of the Lilim are for show. Mazikeen found the chef, which made sense as she has always had a taste for spicy food, the hotter the better, and Louie does a jambalaya hot enough that even I sweat. Why do you ask?”

“I was just curious.”

“Are you looking for gainful employment?”

“No, I have work-study in this bio lab on campus on Thursdays. It’s not that interesting. We’re teaching lemurs to count, kind of. I just…it’s a stepping stone.”

Lucifer smirked and she was getting used to that expression on another face, even if it was terrifying if you didn’t know him or the humor in the gesture. “To then teaching them to color? Perhaps their ABCs.”

“I don’t need a job at _Tenebrae_. I was just more curious about your life here, you know? I missed almost ten years. There’s probably a lot of back story I didn’t get.” She read through the menu even though she’d been here enough times either to see him or to hang with Maze that she already knew what she was predictably going to pick. The Cajun shrimp tacos really were excellent. “So, you know, do any of the staff know?”

“Of course, they’ve been told, just like your parents’ entire precinct knew I was the Devil and Maze was a demon bounty hunter. I never lie about myself. Humans just don’t want to believe.”

She nodded. “You ever think any will figure it out?”

  
“That there are no tricks to our so-called spectacle?” He shrugged as a short waitress who was huffing a bit as she rushed to their booth eyed them both.

She’d probably been running around with the crowd; girl looked beat. “I’m taking over for Cara. It’s five so shifts changeover,” she said, apologetically to Trixie. Of course, Lucifer knew all those details, unless he just pawned them off on the GM. Maybe he did. “Anyway, more drinks coming of course, and anything to eat?”

“I’m fine as long as it’s still Scotch, darling,” Lucifer said, his voice a low rumble which, to be fair, pretty much worked with the British lilt. Intimidating sure but there was charm underneath.

The waitress nodded and stared hard again at her notepad. “And you, Miss?”

“Shrimp tacos, don’t hold back on the spices.” Trixie said, passing back the menu.

“And to drink, urchin?”

“Ugh, after this I will have to go back to the house and study. I have another chemistry quiz coming up so just diet Coke for me. I need to stay sharp.”

The waitress nodded and scurried fairly quickly back to the kitchen. Trixie figured it was mostly because the place was so crazed right now, well by dinner standards. It always got packed like a sardine can by the time the parade happened at night. Lucifer seemed to hunch down a bit and pass his empty glass between his claws.

She sighed. Trixie couldn’t exactly deny that Lucifer, as he was, exuded an aura around him. It wasn’t the type of hippie, New Age bullshit that her grandma believed in. It was more that if you were close to him you could feel it, _the otherness_ about him. The darkness too, something that would probably make someone who didn’t know him shiver. For a human who was only expecting the eccentric owner in theatrical makeup…it had to be a shock to grapple with. But, then again, it was busy so it could be six of one or half dozen of the other as a reason for why the waitress had been so skittish. Maybe she was just harried.

However, since Lucifer always believe the worst about himself, Trixie knew what he had to be thinking.

So, she aimed for more distraction. She’d gotten talented at it the first couple years in Texas when her mom woke up screaming with nightmares (which made so much more sense now), and her dad was working through buckets of guilt over Charlotte.

“You know, I think I could have an A+ in chem for the whole semester if I wanted it.” She grinned at him. “I’m not going to take that because I want to earn my grades, but what exactly did you do?”

He brightened at that and looked up from the crystal of his tumbler. “I merely implied that it would be best if he reconsidered your petition.”

“How?”

“I might have surprised him in his study at night. I was quite pleasant, I assure you.” His grin was so wide now, a complete cat-who-ate-the-canary expression.

Oh, she could just bet. Finding him just in your house, even as courtly as Lucifer could be when it was convenient for him, would have been a total mindfuck. And one of the valid reasons for shitting your pants. But she had no doubt he’d refrained from laying so much as a finger on her professor. Lucifer was probably more persuasive as he was than he had ever been.

“Well, I appreciate it.”

“Seriously, urchin, if in a few years, you need help with a salary negotiation wherever you end up employed or, I suppose in the interim, a friendly discussion with a dean of med school admissions…”  


_Tempting, sorely tempting_.

She shook her head and smiled gratefully as the waitress set new drinks before them. Trixie waited till the girl had scooted away; she didn’t have to wait long. “No, you really can’t just, uh, bargain my way into everything.”

“It would be no bother,” he said, sipping his Scotch. She was pleased his rate of drinking was slowing down. He could actually get tipsy around her if he drank enough. Not full out drunk, but she didn’t want to try wrestling a buzzed Devil up two flights of stairs on her own.

“Oh, it would be…just don’t tempt me again.”

His grin widened. “Oh, Beatrice, that’s what I live for.”

“No, but I do appreciate that Dr. Pachinsky maybe, okay a lot, got some of that stick out of his butt.”

“Oh, I assure you I could do more.”

“Can it. I’m not Faust here.”

“That’s not a true story.”

“Well, I don’t want to be the actual version, but, okay, I can admit if anyone deserved a little heart attack, then he was. I saw him make a T.A. cry our first day of class!”

Lucifer sipped again. “Then, I’ve done a veritable community service with working to mellow him.”

“So, uh, my academic life aside and stuff…I dunno…I wanted to also ask a lot more about New Orleans. I…is it just vampires here or?”

He brought his left hand to his chest, claws grazing against his heart. “You wound me, spawn. Is it not enough that the very-much-retired King of Hell, his most trusted and powerful demons, and bloodsucking leeches roam the streets here? Frankly, I’m more than sufficient as far as preternatural powerhouses are concerned.” He winked at her. “In point of fact, I’m superlative.”

She rolled her eyes, and with the amount she was doing that these days, Trixie sincerely hoped that she couldn’t get her face stuck that way or, uh, accidentally roll them out of her head. It was a risk of hanging out with the Prince of Darkness. Totally.

“You know what I mean. How many vampires? Ooh, are ghosts a thing?”

“That’s patently ridiculous,” he replied. “My sister would never allow them to roam the earth. When you die, you go to my former domain or to the Silver City. There is not and has never been an in-between.”

She deflated at that at first. “So, all the ghost tours around here?”

“Utter bunk.”

“Wait…your sister?”

“Well, Azrael and I have not…outside of one time in L.A., we haven’t spoken with each other since the Rebellion. I suppose I could pray to her and see her, but I haven’t checked in with Rae Rae since she had some worries over…never mind, spawn, that’s not completely my story to tell. But I can say that whilst angels each have a purpose, like my brother, Amenadiel’s, duty was once to hover over me and force my returns down South, my sister’s, as the Angel of Death, has always been to ferry dead souls. So, no, ghosts have never existed, not like that. No human soul remains on this plane for long.”

“Okay, so witches?”

“Practioners of various religions exist throughout the world. One person’s belief system is another’s magic. Are you asking if something like Wicca or Houdon or ancient Druidic beliefs once upon a time or now are real? Of course, they are and always have been. Do you mean can some human wield ‘magic’ to create curses? Well, yes, that is also true.”

“Wait, back up. So, a self-styled witch or warlock could say some Latin and ‘poof’ I’m a frog?”

“Yes, please simplify the laws of the known universe.”  


“Well?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Magic is real, complicated, not to be toyed with by amateurs so never entertain it, and can be quite a pain in anyone’s backside, mine included. The magical community, and I have never gotten along, but I let the witches and wizards of New Orleans go on as they please and no one bothers my bar. Neutral territory for the whole block, if you will.”

“Werewolves?”

“Nope,” he said, popping his “p” on that as if he were popping a chewing gum bubble.

“Oh, that’s lame.”

“Well, it might save you the risk of accidentally contracting fleas.”

“What about leprechauns? Or, I dunno, faeries?”

  
“Do you think I have everything _other _on speed dial?”

“Maybe? Do zombies exist? I bet they exist if vampires do!”

“Perhaps. I’ve heard stories about things in Australia and near Chernobyl a few times…so, I’d say there is a chance there have been outbreaks the world has worked hard to hide unless you can trade favors for information in small dollops. It’s not a going concern, I’d say.”

The waitress returned and set Trixie’s plate down. She reached for Lucifer’s now empty tumbler, but her hand was shaking so badly that she dropped it almost as soon as her fingers wrapped around its rim. The glass fell to the booth top and rolled around but, thankfully, didn’t shatter. Their server sputtered a frantic “sorry and I’ll get another” before grabbing the tumbler and scurrying back to the kitchen as if the hounds of hell were after her.

Maybe they technically were.

Lucifer rubbed delicately at his temples, making sure to focus the flats of his fingertips on his skin and to avoid the slice of his own claws against its ravaged surface. “Perhaps this was overly optimistic of you, Beatrice.”

She offered him a small, half-smile. Working with Lucifer was all about patience; she was learning that. “She doesn’t know you. It’s fine.”

“You know me, and I’m on probation.”  


She narrowed her eyes at him. “You _earned_ probation, and it’s going pretty well. Hey,” she offered, passing him half her taco. “Would you like some? It’s not like I had to pay for it.”

“I did,” he riposted. “Peace offering?”

“Definitely. Besides, don’t tell me you’re scared of how spicy these babies are.”

“The Devil fears nothing and backs down from no challenge, spawn, pass it over.”

She did, glad to see it had mollified him a bit. Honestly, the dining at happy hour experiment had worked better than she had anticipated, one skittish server aside. It was good to see him down and mingling kind of with people. He could do this, at least under the guise and the image _Tenebrae_ had created. She even bet if they thought harder, did research, and, okay, maybe mostly in October, there were other places he could go. Trixie would definitely make a point of figuring it out.

If only to save his sanity because that many reruns of _Bones_ and rewatches of _Body Bags_ could not be good for anyone. _Oh, shit, note to self, never check out Lucifer’s Netflix history. _She bet he’d watched the much-hated _Hot Tub_ trilogy an inhuman amount of times, even if her mom had skipped out on the sequels, _Hot Tub Hotel and Hot Tub Ski Lodge_ (that one was straight to DVD).

He bit into it and swallowed. “Not so bad. I…” he got halfway through his sentence before clearly the spice kicked in and he reached clumsily for her glass. He guzzled the rest of it down. “I’ll grant perhaps that was a bit more than I was expecting.”

“The cool ranch obsession has dimmed your capacity, Old Scratch. I swear if we got into a spice off, I’d win.”

“You are only human.”

“I’m half-miracle! It must come in handy for something.” She frowned and quirked her head at him.

Talking about that was kind of on a verboten list, one she’d made up herself. They didn’t talk about Los Angeles. They didn’t talk about his time in Heaven, ever. She’d asked just once and he hadn’t yelled---the Devil honored his deals---but he had politely asked her to go home and then explained the following week that he couldn’t talk about the Rebellion, never even had with Miss Linda. It was too hard for him. The other thing they tried never to talk about was her parents, especially her mom. It was why him waxing poetically about dumbass _Hot Tub High School_ got her enough leverage to get him down here in the first place. So, even thinking about asking what “being a miracle” meant also came with crossing that line into the “stuff we don’t speak about” list.

And now that she thought about it, there was a lot they’d just buried in a ditch and agreed to pretend never happened. It probably wasn’t healthy, but it kept them both comfortable and Satan from screaming at her, so it was working. So far.

And yet…what did it even mean that her mom was a miracle or that she kind of was too since without Amenadiel blessing her Grandma Penelope, well, Trixie wouldn’t exactly be alive either?

“What, urchin?” he asked.

A new server sidled up to their table. Apparently, the other girl, Gretchen, had to leave early for a “family emergency” and Bill would cover them the rest of the night. She accepted her new Coke gratefully since her taste buds were on fire too. Lucifer, for once, didn’t touch his refilled tumbler.

Instead, he nodded toward Bill, who at least didn’t seem fazed by the Devil. “Thank you for updating us. I’ll speak with Maze and ensure that dear Gretchen is of course paid for sick leave and that a raise may be in order. I hate to hear of family distress.”

Bill nodded. “Great, I’ll text her, Mr. Morningstar.”

He held up a massive hand, palm flat. “Thank you. That’s quite efficient.”

The server left, and Trixie didn’t say anything for a couple minutes, deciding to let Lucifer digest what had happened. He didn’t pick back up the Scotch, just stared at the golden liquid as if it held the secrets of the universe. When the silence stretched out too long for her to bear, she decided she had to try and speak again.

“Hey, so, it’s not---”

  
“Don’t please,” he said, and his voice was a plaintive rumble.

Trixie sighed and reached out despite his request to pat the back of his hand. Even just the back of it swamped all of her own. The skin there was as warm and feverish as ever, and some part of her was getting used to that too. “You know, I think there must be a hundred people down here right now, including the bar tenders and the other six servers on duty. Seven if you include Bill. If only one person…”

“She shouldn’t have to suffer with a breakdown of some sort because her boss is---”

“An acquired taste?” Trixie hedged. “Don’t get so focused on the one person who needed a devil-break. Focus on the over one hundred who honestly only give a shit if their fries are soggy or not when they get to their tables or who want to get hammered after work as fast as possible. They could care less that the Devil’s right next to them. Thus, with a like 1% glitch, I declare this a successful outing.”

“You can’t just…”

“I’m a miracle. I can declare anything I’d like.”

“You may be taking advantage of that fact,” he replied, pulling away from her so that he could sip his drink. Good. Lucifer tended to chug things down in a breath when he was really worked up. He wasn’t going to rabbit on her at least. “You’re talking about the miracle thing quite a bit today. Something on your mind, urchin?”

“Well, does it mean anything?”

“It means I can’t get your deepest desires out of you with my usual powers. It means I’m vulnerable around you. Otherwise, I don’t believe it does. You’ve known the detective longer than I have, see her still, and you know yourself. Do either of you have superpowers?”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“Well, do you?”

“No, if you’d never told me, I’d never have known.”

“Pretty much how it went with the detective. I never did tell her that in point of fact. But I don’t think it really means anything about you as much as it does about me or, perhaps, it’s at least based around a resistance to my infernal side. That is all I’ve ever determined.”

“But would it make me like magic resistant? Would it mean if I saw Amenadiel’s wings or other divinity, I’d be chill about that too? Like okay, I’m half-miracle, so does that mean I’m proportionally half as whatever as my mom? Like, would you only need me to go half a mile away before you’re invulnerable again?”

“I have no idea.”

“Wouldn’t at least the last one be good to find out?”

“Perhaps, but urchin if you’re waiting for me to give you a letter, an owl, and tell you which train platform to head towards for a magical train ride, then you’ve got the wrong Brit.”

She rolled her eyes again and finished the last of her taco. “You are so not Hagrid or, well, actually English.”

“Technicalities,” Lucifer corrected.

“Whatever, I’m just curious. Like I’m part miracle and, I guess, if you think about it in a Rube Goldberg way, I only exist cause God wanted to like fuck with the Devil. That’s sort of messed up.”  


Lucifer exhaled theatrically and it was strong enough to not only ruffle her hair but the hair of patrons a few booths over. They received a few dirty looks but no one else pulled a Gretchen and panicked, so it was, overall, fine. “Yes, I’ve always thought so. It was why I never told the detective. It was also why I wish I’d never been so petty as to tell you but at the time---”

“You figured you’d growl, do your big bad wolf routine, and I’d be out of your hair.” She smirked. “It’s cute you thought I worked like that.”

“I should have known better, that with Maze’s hooks in you, then there was no way you could ever really fear me.”

“Nah, I’m also just naturally awesome.” She shrugged. “I just…I’m usually busy between my sorority and school and finding a summer internship and all that, but I have a few things I keep coming back to since all this started up. One is the fact vampires are real and I was almost a snack for them, which ugh.”

“But you weren’t, and you shall _never_ be.”

“You can’t watch me 24/7 and, yeah, I’ve trained with Maze and have my blade at all times, but being a miracle doesn’t exactly give me any physical prowess. Wish it did.”

Lucifer considered her. “The vampires are not like the witches. Most magic practioners in the city are civil and are interested in honoring their own traditions in private. They keep to themselves much like me and mine stay on our block. It’s an easy truce. The vampires…I simply don’t care whom they eat. Murders aren’t something I solve anymore, urchin, but they can be rough. Feral. However, they know not to touch you. They’ve been told.”

“You went to them?”

“Didn’t have to. I left that bloke who chomped on your neck alive. Armless, but alive. He was ordered to return to his nest and explain what happened, and to relay that if anyone ever touched Trixie Espinoza or her friends, they’d face mine and Mazikeen’s wrath.”

She blinked. “You ripped his arms off?”

“It didn’t kill him. In fact, I think you’ll find being a member of the ‘undead’ means that you’re already deceased.”

“Yeah but I…whoa.”

Lucifer frowned and quirked his head at her again. It was surreal when he did that, when he really studied her like that. She knew the gesture well. Originally, it had been piercing even with dark brown eyes that never really seemed to blink. Now with eyes that burned incandescently with hellfire, his gaze was like a microscope trained on her.

“Does that scare you? Do I scare you?”

“Um, no. But that’s pretty stupid. You probably should have just staked him and had Maze…”

“We’ve no idea where their nest is, and they don’t have a scent. It makes it hard for even Mazikeen to track.”

“Huh?”

“She hunts by scent. All the Lilim do. I assumed you knew.”

“Not so much, although that makes a ton of sense now. I just…so yeah, that’s definitely what I keep circling. There are vampires. _Here._ And they might eat me again.”

Lucifer sat up straighter, and his voice was so low and brimmed with danger when he spoke. She knew the threat in the words was not for her but for any leech dumb enough to come near her. “Only a fool would harm what’s the Devil’s. They won’t.” He sighed and finished his drink. “However, if you are truly worried, then there is one thing I can offer you.”

“More weapons?”

“You’re hardly ready for more than your blade.”

“Maze said…”

“She did not, urchin. I have heard stories about your renewed training so far. Don’t play the one off the other. Mazikeen and I are not your parents any more than you are.”

She pouted. “Really? Cause telling Dad what Mom would let me do…well it still works to get like better electronics and clothes and stuff.”

“Your father is not as quick-witted as he could be. It’s a disadvantage you’ve clearly overcome.”

“Hey!”

“But no, don’t play us against the other. You’ve got a while to go before a bigger knife or something more demanding can be given to you. However,” he leaned closer to her and whispered the next part, which honestly shocked her because Lucifer was never shy, not exactly. “Pray.”

“Huh? Here? I mean, you kind of hate your dad. Okay, understatement, you loathe him, and I figured that would be rude in front of you and…”

“No, urchin, but it is rather thoughtful that you’ll take sides with me, after a fashion. I just meant that if you absolutely have to…I can hear prayers if I so choose. I tend to block them out because few sane people pray to Satan, believe me, but I will listen for yours. Should any leech be so very, deeply thick to still come after you, then I will know and come for you.”

“Wait so prayer is like telepathy?”

“No, it’s a one-way conduit, unless you’re also an angel or, well, _were_. But I can hear you.”

“Bullshit.”

He leaned back and arched an eyebrow ridge at her. “Try me.”

Trixie shrugged. Weirder things had happened. Technically, she kind of was a weirder thing. Closing her eyes and bringing her hands in front of her like she always did at mass, Trixie concentrated:

_Hey, uh, Lucifer---do I have to say “Dear Lucifer” cause that’s weird---anyway, just in case you’re trying to fake me out on this whole prayer thing, I think Kimo Van Zant is the worst actor I’ve ever seen._

Lucifer’s eyes were such a deep crimson that Trixie remembered again that she was technically dealing the Devil, even if it was also like dealing with a very mercurial twelve-year-old. With claws. And spikes. “You take that back, you demon! Kimo Van Zant is a national treasure.”

She whistled. “Wow, that works?”

“I told you that it would,” he sniffed.

“I…so can I just think ‘Lucifer’ or…”

“Yes, no ‘dears’ needed. Honestly, urchin, it’s not that complicated. But you blaspheme the action hero pantheon in my presence. You’re most ungrateful.”

She sighed and checked the time on her phone. “No, it’s getting late, and I’ve got so many chemical equations to balance.” Trixie stood and grabbed her backpack, which she’d brought down with her. Drifting to his side of the booth, she didn’t even think before giving him a quick peck on the cheek, nothing more than she would have been forced to give her dad when he got all, you know, “sunrise, sunset, my little girl is growing up and only comes home for laundry help at vacation” on her, but the gesture seemed to make sense at the time with Lucifer, too.

When she pulled back, she wasn’t sure if she’d just done something super clingy and stupid. “Uh, sorry?”

He frowned at her. “No…I…until next Monday, spawn.”

She finally relaxed and smiled. “Always.”

**

“I feel like you’re not telling me everything, Monkey.”

Trixie swallowed hard even as she reached to stroke Beelzebub’s back. He was her pet sugar glider. She had one because Lucifer was an idiot. She got to keep it in her room at the sorority house even if pets were forbidden due to allergies because Annie still worried about her and her potential stalking problem. Trixie wasn’t sure how being allowed to keep the presumed stalker’s exotic pet choice was actually going to help her, but she liked Beelz a lot so she was glad she could keep him for whichever specious reason.

“Trixie? Hello?”

She eyed her cell like it might bite her but then realized that _not_ answering her mom was a terrible idea. It was the bitch of having two detectives for parents; she rarely got away with anything. No, scratch that. What she _could_ get away with, she only did because she was pulling the wool over Dad’s eyes. Not because she’d ever fooled her mom.

There was a reason Mom’s solve rate at her current station was the highest among her colleagues. Again, sucked if you were her kid.

“I’m fine, just working hard to find a good internship in the area that’s medically related for the summer. I’ve got a few interviews lined up, but it’s a whole process.”

“No, it’s something else. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but you’ve seemed really busy this semester.”

“Well, I’m trying to get on the slate to be activities chair for Omega Chi and slating comes up soon. My classes are pretty dam…darn hard, Mom, and I work in a lab too for work-study. It’s a lot for anyone.”

“And yet, you called more last semester. I swear, I try and get in touch with you on Monday and Tuesday and all you want to do is text. I won’t tell your dad yet, but do you have a boy you’re seeing?”

Trixie wanted to laugh. A lot. She had a Devil she sometimes, kind of, maybe a little, was babysitting on Mondays. If the height of a romantic evening was binging terrible 90s action movies while watching Lucifer drink half the Scotch in Louisiana then, well, maybe her mom had dodged a serious bullet. No, it was so not like that. He just took a lot of time. And effort. It was like a puppy, a giant mastiff puppy with anger issues.

And wings.

Sure, like that.

“No, I’m just slammed.”

“I should let you know that your dad doesn’t really mean he’ll kill anyone you date or that, you know, he’d like to speak man-to-man with them first with his service revolver around. I’m the cool mom, right?”

“No, you were never cool.”

“Okay, then I’m a detective, and I know something else is up, Trixie-babe. So, what gives?”

She sighed. Where would she even try and start?

_Well, Mom, Lucifer’s here, and he’s a handful. But there are also vampires in New Orleans because some clichés are true, and now I train with Maze a couple times a week when she’s in town to make sure I’m not chomped on, and I must spend a third of my time at **Tenebrae**, but not always in a fun party way but in a sometimes I sew up the Devil if he’s an idiot around glass way and…_

Nope, none of that would work.

Instead, she stroked Beelz again and tried to sound as cheerful as possible. “Just school stuff. Freshman year is one thing, but making sure med schools take me seriously is gonna keep ramping up and---”

“You can be anything you want. If getting into med school eventually doesn’t work out, it’s okay. You don’t have to come back here and be a cop or anything, but it’s not like you can choose any career more embarrassing than Vampire Queen, right? Or, ugh, some of the crappy stuff I starred in when I was technically ‘acting.’”

Trixie chuckled. Her mom was so sensitive about her career. Granted, while being the girl with the mom whose boobs you could see on Netflix wasn’t exactly awesome, she had seen some of her mom’s stuff from her Disney Channel days and, yeah, it was rough, but her mom had had some talent and definitely more than Grandma Penelope. Her mother didn’t have to be ashamed, and it wasn’t like other movies back in the early 2000s-ish didn’t have nudity. At least her mom had never pretended to fuck a pie onscreen.

That had totally ruined that Biggs’ guys career.

“True, just…I’m doing my best.”

“No doubt on that, sweetie. Can’t wait to see you next month for spring break.”

“Me either, Mom. Tell Dad I said ‘hi and sorry I caught you while he was on shift.’ Also, tell abuelo and abuela ‘hi’ for me, too, okay?”

“Of course, Monkey. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

With that, she clicked off the phone and spent the rest of the night in a semi-cold sweat, trying to figure out what laundry list of lies she could come up with to throw her mom off track about her life in New Orleans. It sucked that her mom was so good at her job, which Trixie was _not_. Like, on a case, be tenacious, when quizzing her about her extracurriculars, which included hanging with Old Scratch, maybe Mom needed to lay off a bit.

**

The following Monday, Lucifer met her halfway with being adventurous. While they did happy hour in his booth, he’d insisted on no longer than an hour. To be fair, no servers or patrons acted as squirrelly as Gretchen had previously. However, after what Lucifer called a “contained exposure to the infernal,” he insisted that they return to his living room. He let her pick the entertainment this time, and she’d chosen reruns of her second favorite teen drama, which he bitched was mostly a rip-off of something called _Dawson’s Creek_, and while she didn’t wonder when over the last decade the Devil had had time to catch up on television, Trixie did worry about his media taste or lack thereof. Eventually, after about one a.m., they’d ended up on the balcony to star gaze. He explained about making them while she pointed out all the constellations she’d studied for hours in middle school, back when she still dreamed of NASA, back before her dad, too, had been shot in the line of duty and his rehabilitation process inspired her to change fields.

It was nice.

And then Friday rolled around, and things weren’t quite as nice anymore. Or, at least, her inherited detective senses started tingling. Because of the accepted fact that the time between her chem lab ending at 4 pm on Mondays and her ten a.m. Spanish lit class on Wednesday _was_ her new weekend, Trixie spent her Thursdays and Fridays working in her room. It had gotten her from a couple of her sisters who were still kind of pissy about the Great Flower Incident the nickname of “the nun.” That made her laugh. If only they knew. However, she didn’t mind. While she went to the socials she needed to with her sisters, and she did take Saturday nights for herself, although she usually ended up half the time at _Tenebrae_ anyway for the parade (it was best on Saturdays, the most flourish), Trixie was serious the rest of the time. She had to get into med school, and sometimes close to thirty-six hours of hanging with Lucifer cut into that.

Sometimes, it didn’t.

He wasn’t adverse to her bringing her books to study alongside of him while he did whatever it was he did to stay busy. But, yeah, her schedule had shifted in a way most college students’ didn’t, and she had fallen into the role of sober sister on Thursdays and Fridays in case anyone needed a ride or help or had run out of rideshare money…etc. She also tended to be the only person in the house on Fridays---for sure on Fridays---besides Mrs. Murchison. It was a good way to get stuff done, especially all of Pachinksy’s torture disguised as chem equations.

But it was usually quiet.

What she hadn’t expected was for Cheryl to knock on her door. Trixie frowned and set her copy of _Cien A__ños de Soledad_ down, and hugged Cheryl tightly to her after she’d opened the door. “Hey, you…I didn’t realize you were back on campus.”

While she’d stayed after all the craziness with the vamps (still embarrassing) at the cemetery, Cheryl had taken a few weeks off and then, last Trixie’d heard, was considering commuting in from the suburbs where her aunt lived for classes. It was easier to breathe now that it seemed her friend was actually back to stay at the Omega Chi house and was dealing better with the trauma of the attacks they’d lived through. Maze was amazing, but it was one thing to have your butt saved when you already knew demons, and the Devil existed. (And, hey, were in your corner, at least in Trixie’s case.)

It had to be something else to realize that there were scary, inhuman things in the world, and you were just a blade of grass before a lawnmower blade to them.

It certainly hadn’t done wonders for her mother for a while.

Cheryl nodded, but her eyes kept darting around all corners of the room, as if she expected for _something_ to launch out of a dark corner at her. “I just came back to live on campus and at the house again. Aunt Dana’s great, but, I just…it felt better being fully in the swing of things after the attack.”

Trixie nodded and hurried to clear her books and notepad from the bed and patted her constellation duvet beside her once she was done. “Sit, totally.”

Cheryl did that but still kept her gaze moving around the room. She also wrapped a strand of red hair tightly around her finger before loosening it and then starting the tic all over again. “I need you to tell me what you saw that night. I really need to know what happened. Because I have nightmares, and I know what I _think_ I saw, but I just…that can’t be what I saw. I want to talk to my aunt about it or the doctors I’ve been seeing, but it sounds so bonkers. I can’t. But maybe if you saw…”

Trixie shrugged. Lucifer and Maze had never been shy with what they were. And it wasn’t like either were easy to kill. In fact, Maze was quite clear that with even batwings on his back currently (apparently the dumbass had repeatedly removed his angelic ones as a fuck you to his Dad, and, okay _he _would so do that), Lucifer couldn’t die. He could be temporarily removed from this plane by a blade or weapon of Celestial or Infernal design or, possibly, if injured badly enough while she was around (being a miracle kind of sucked), but he could also just slip back between planes as if nothing had happened. So, the truth didn’t really matter, safety wise.

But it did seem to matter to her sorority sister’s wavering sanity.

“I…what do you think happened that night?”

“I think that Josh was a freaking vampire, and he bit my neck.” She pulled back the fall of hair on her left side, and Trixie shuddered at the still black and somewhat blue bruise healing on her neck and the ragged teeth marks that appeared to have been stitched up when she’d gone to the student clinic the following morning. “Doctors and police say it must have been a guy high on meth, you know? But I saw, and it wasn’t. His eyes got so weird, and then that chick from the club bartending? The one with half a rotted face was there, and way she moved---fast as she was---she wasn’t like normal either. I mean, also, that makeup never fell off or got lose or anything.” Cheryl’s eyes grew wide and she finally focused on Trixie, giving up her vigil on the room. “I think she really _was _a demon.”

Trixie nodded and let out one, long breath. Cheryl hadn’t seen Lucifer. That was a good thing. If she were wigging out this badly over a vamp and even just Maze’s face, well, she might have been the type who when confronted with the full devil, just started screaming and never stopped.

“You saw exactly what you think you saw. I…look my mind is still totally blown that vampires are a thing. I mean, you’d think they wouldn’t live here cause everyone assumes they do anyway, but whatever. I had no idea.”

Her friend frowned. “But the demon you did know about?”

“Maze and Lucifer used to run a bar back in L.A. called _Lux_. Back then, it was not so, uh, theme-oriented, but he also hung out with my parents.” She figured explaining that he solved crimes just made things more confusing cause, really, you had to know how bored Lucifer tended to get to understand that and, you know, that he totally was a puppy dog when anything involved her mom. Probably even now. After all, what was she but Chloe Decker-by-proxy? “I had _zero_ idea that _Tenebrae_ was his new deal here in New Orleans. Hell, my family moved to Texas when I was almost eleven, and I lost touch with Lucifer, and Maze didn’t tell me---very deliberately---about their relocation. I just…I didn’t know.”

“What are you trying to say, exactly? Did you know that Maze was a demon?”

“Well, I didn’t expect to walk back into a bar she was co-running, no. I mean, yeah, Maze is a demon but she’s a good demon. I mean, mostly. She bounty hunts for different police districts and is quite good at it. I mean, honestly, these days the worst shit she does is break up bar fights for fun.” Well, probably. Trixie knew she never killed or permanently paralyzed her bounties because that would end up with no payment on the other end and legal issues. However, Trixie wasn’t sure how unscarred mentally they were when they arrived at precincts. A demon was still a demon after all. “She’s definitely good. I…she’s protected me since I was seven.”

“You have a pet demon?”

Trixie rolled her eyes and lowered her voice, just in case Mrs. Murchison was snooping around. “She’s not a pet. She’s my friend. I just…demons have very protective instincts for whatever they’re protecting. For Maze, it’s Lucifer cause he’s her boss and has been for like forever, and I mean _literally_, and me and then her godson, Charlie.”

“Her what?”

“Well, I figure the title is more metaphorical. I think it’s more just a way to include her in feeling part of his life than, you know, ask her to teach him about religion cause so not her thing? Or, well, she’s on the wrong side.”

“If she’s loyal to Lucifer, and he’s…oh shit!” Cheryl stood up and started to pace, scratching at her arms as she did, and it scared Trixie for a moment, made her fear that her friend would draw blood.

Hopping up, Trixie planted hands on each of Cheryl’s shoulders to still her. “Yes, I mean, technically Lucifer’s the Devil.” No technically about it. He just wasn’t exactly what people expected. G…wait still not thinking that…Jeez, if they’d known him back in L.A. and his whole manwhore phase, they’d really never believe it. (And she’d been nine, not an idiot. She knew at least hints of grown-up stuff, and her mom was always making Lucifer stop talking right before he’d tell her all the _good_ stories, so duh.) “But he really just watches terrible TV reruns and listens to blues records and drinks. I mean, he drinks a lot. The local distilleries should build shrines to his liver and his bank account, really.”

“I…the Devil and a demon saved us from vampires.”

“See, that’s the silver lining. You’re alive, and the vamps won’t bother you again.”

Cheryl was shaking in her grip. “Do they work for _him_?”

Trixie dropped her hands and, instead, opted to try and calm her friend by patting her right shoulder. “No, never. I mean, they’re a whole separate thing. Honestly? Lucifer’s retired---hence the club now---and even if he weren’t, like, seriously, vampires are super under his paygrade.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Cheryl seemed to jump a foot at that. “What?”

“He just…he doesn’t really, uh, flock with other supernatural people. Honestly, he’s like a big, dramatic hermit. It’s a thing. Maze gets out more, and maybe you could meet them? They’re super nice. I mean, okay sarcastic and prickly, but they mean well, mostly. Trust me. If Mazikeen of the Lilim and Lucifer Morningstar are protecting you, then you’re safe. They mean business, Cheryl, and the vampires---still weird to say out loud, ugh---aren’t going to hurt you or me.”

“I’m safe because Satan says it’s cool?”

Trixie winced at how shrill Cheryl grew on that last question. She sighed and tried something different. Going to the corner of her room, she pulled Beelzebub out of his hammock and set him in his favorite blanket. Then, quietly, she came back to her friend and put him in her arms. “I stroke Beelz when I feel upset. It helps.”

Cheryl seemed to at least agree with that much. Sitting back down on the bed, she petted the sugar glider and smiled. “He’s cute.”

“Lucifer bought him for me. Like, just process that. He’s _nothing _like the Bible says, at least, uh, not emotionally speaking. The look, well, he has that nailed.” _Now_. “I just…he’s very protective and he’s a good person.”

“He’s _Satan_,” her friend hissed.

“It’s more a job title? He didn’t actually volunteer to run Hell you know, and he doesn’t rule it anymore anyway. He abdicated twenty years ago. Seriously, the worst thing you can accuse him of is probably the worst taste in movies of any being I know. That’s tragic, really. How about next Monday we go to _Tenebrae_? Maze will be back from visiting Charlie, and Lucifer and I hang out then after my chem lab. We can, uh, just talk, you know?” Trixie sighed again and tickled Beelz’s nose over her friend’s shoulder. “You’re safe, Cheryl, and nothing that bad is ever going to touch us again. Lucifer promised, and he always keeps those.

Always.”

**

“Urchin, it’s Sunday!”

Trixie wondered if Lucifer realized how much he sucked at hiding his emotions. It was all in the wings, which were ridiculously expressive once you started noticing and reading their movements. Currently, even if he was trying to be nonchalant by very carefully reading a spy thriller on his sofa (and there were still some gouges in the hardback’s cover; he was probably not an e-reader guy), his wings had perked right up the moment he’d realized she was in his apartment.

It was, to be honest, adorable.

“It is.”  


“Be careful about how far you expand our deal. You might end up being Maze and Taka’s third flat mate.”

“I like my sorority house.”

Lucifer leered---and it was unfair he could still do that and freak her out. “Oh, yes, I wouldn’t leave a sorority house, either.”

  
“Gross, dude.”

“Your sisters are of age; there’s no harm in a little imagination.”

“I can leave.”

He set the book down and shrugged. His wings worked themselves to being held more tightly against his back, and she wondered if he even noticed the way they moved at all. “You could, but I’m far more interesting and delightful than any chemistry or English or Spanish or whatever else you have to do.”

“You missed bio.”

“That too.”

She nodded and slipped next to him on the couch. Then, she nudged his shoulder. “Move over, Luci, I need my space too.”

“I was king. I take up space as I please. You’re merely my adoring public.”

She smirked at him. “Yes, adoring public---party of one.”

“You wound me, urchin,” he replied, but he slid to his side of the couch anyway. “May I inquire as to why you’re here early?”

“I don’t always have to only visit on mostly Mondays-Wednesday and, well, for the Saturday parade.”

“No, but you’re like clockwork. I blame…” He stopped then and looked away.

“It’s okay, I mean, you were gonna say I’m like Mom and Dad and super anal about being on time. It kind of just has always been that way.” She sighed. “I…it’s okay sometimes if I remind you of them, and you mention it. I don’t want it to feel like a landmine. I just mean, like, okay Mom rejected you, and I’m here, and I’m not…you don’t have to worry about the other shoe dropping. I mean, unless you act like an asshole, and then that’s all on you and not the Devil crap.”

“So, you’ve told me. But, alright, yes, the Detective was rather rigid about being on time. And, well, Daniel was so rigid that he labeled all his puddings compulsively.”

“He still does that. He used to label all my snack packs too when he made my lunch.”

Lucifer laughed at that, a low guttural noise that almost would have been terrifying if you didn’t know what it meant. It made Trixie grin and join in. He rarely was that unguarded or, even for a moment, happy. She was glad she could do that for him. Even if she probably shouldn’t encourage him making fun of her dad.

“That sounds very much like Daniel. I wasn’t the _only_ one stealing his pudding, you know. Occasionally, Miss Lopez did too.”

“Yeah, but…anyway, I come by the keeping a schedule and a timetable pretty honestly.”

“Indeed you do, child. Now, what’s up?”

  
“Why does anything have to be up?”

“We just established that it was, and besides, you are an excellent liar, Beatrice, but I’m still the Devil---pretty much _all_ I am these days---and I know when I’m being lied to.”

“Well, maybe not a lie so much as I’m a bit nervous.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you desire of me?”

“Who said…”

“I may not be able to force the truth from you, but I can tell when you have a request. I’ve deduced you want me to do something. So out with it, urchin.”

“I…okay, can you and Maze have dinner with my friend Cheryl? I mean, the four of us at your booth…or here, whichever. I…she _remembers_, Lucifer. Like the whole attack, that vampires are a thing---no matter how dumb---and that a demon saved her. She was freaking out, and I thought if she knew that you and Maze had an eye out now for her safety, and you were super nice that it might make her feel better.”

Lucifer drummed his nails against the leather of the sofa cushion. Well, he did until he punched a hole through part of it. “Fuck. I…”

“I mean, I explained the ‘it’s all real,’ not that you and Maze were hiding it.” Quite the opposite, actually. “Please, just give me forty-five minutes. She’s pretty skittish anyway, and she just needs to know she won’t be leech chow again, okay?”

“Beatrice,” he said, blinking those luminous and disorienting hell fire eyes back at her.

She would never tell him this, but Trixie missed his old eyes the most. She figured it was all two-fold. First, his power emanated from the red-eyes he had. He drew desires---or could---from others with eye contact, could scare people senseless with one gaze into their crimson depths. But, really, she actually missed the kind brown eyes he’d once had because they were one of the first things she’d seen at the hanger after Malcolm was dead. She’d run out and hugged her mom first, but she didn’t start feeling safe till Lucifer, with his suit jacket crookedly buttoned over his middle, had knelt down to her and promised that he would never let anything touch her. She’d looked into his eyes then and believed it.

She still did.

Yet, she was learning to read what emotion she could from the flames before her. They were dim, almost as dim as they ever got.

_Nervous, then_.

She patted his shoulder. “You’ve done the whole near people to eat thing twice with me. No problems!” Ugh, even she winced at the false brightness in her tone.

“I’m not an experiment, Dr. Espinoza.”

“Not there yet but come on. It’ll be me and Maze as buffers. She just needs to know that she won’t get eaten again.”

“She won’t. I already promised…”

“But she needs to know that you and Maze are good!”

He snorted. “I’m fairly certain I haven’t been ‘good’ since I Fell, spawn. Maze might gut you for suggesting it about her too.”

  
“She loves me, so she wouldn’t. Besides, some great evil she is: doting over an eight year old and bringing the FBI’s most wanted to justice.”

Lucifer stood up then and spread his wings to their full twenty-foot-plus expanse. “And I’m a pushover?”

_Lately, definitely_.

But saying that would really make him somehow find a reason to sulk. Instead, Trixie skated the truth. “You spent years catching the worst murderers in Los Angeles.”

“I’m a punisher.”

“You turned them over to the courts.”

“Most of them,” he admitted.

She sighed and let him have his moment. G…no, shit, really was going to have to work on her thought process. Yeesh, if she’d ever gotten her hands on Cain, she’d have at least kicked him hard enough to make sure he never had children. She couldn’t have taken a 6-foot-plus former immortal, but she really would have wanted to. After thinking about how he’d almost killed her mom, after how devastated her father had been because of Charlotte…yeah, if she could have, Trixie would have killed him, herself.

“You’re very impressive, Luci. You’re just, you know, a nice guy.”

“Am not!”

“If you spread your wings wider, does that up your evil cred?”

He rolled his eyes and folded them away. “I’m the stuff of nightmares. Multiple religious systems are built around my legendary evil.”

“Uh-uh.”  


He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not a fluffy mongrel here, urchin.”  


“Right, totally not, but you and Maze aren’t terrifying, uh if you choose not to be. Cheryl really needs to see that. I’m scared she’s on the verge of dropping out of school or worse.” Considering the way she’d tried to scratch at her own arms till she drew blood, Cheryl might be on the worse path already. “Please, I’ll do any favor you ask.”

Lucifer Morningstar, at his heart, could not resist a deal. His wings flared again, and his eyebrow ridges raised high. “A blank check to the Devil? You know better.”

“Name your price. Anything.”

He grinned. “Movie marathon, my choice.”

Shit. He’d deliberately pick the dumbest things on purpose just to bore her. The ass. Okay, so maybe Lucifer was still good at torture. “You know the rule. _Never_ those movies.”

“Agreed, urchin, I’m not an ogre.”

“Fine, then Monday in a week, if you meet with me and Cheryl tomorrow, you and I can watch whatever terrible shlock you want as long as it’s hot tub free.”

He nodded and waited patiently for her to take his hand and shake it. They’d made a few deals since they’d reconciled, but she initiated contact. That was the rule. It was always the rule. He never touched her first, and they both knew why. He was too scared he might slip and scratch her. Trixie didn’t think he would, but his claws were wickedly sharp and incredibly strong. See again sparking fucking steel.

It was just smarter this way.

She shook his hand and let the contact linger a few moments longer than it had to. Touch was good for him. She knew he hadn’t…except for whatever weirdass, so didn’t want to know, debauchery he’d had with the Lilim this past decade…well, Lucifer hadn’t had _any _type of physical contact at all.

He’d been so very tactile before.

Trixie finally slid her hand off, just in case he noticed. It was hard, even as she felt him out, learned about his quirks and tics and what set him off now. Lucifer resented pity; nothing made him madder. But he was crushingly lonely because he’d always been the center of any room, and so not just orgies. Her dad had always complained and, kind of, eventually warmed to the fact that the whole precinct loved Lucifer because he was a nice guy (even if he denied it for “reputation’s sake”) and he’d helped everyone in that office out within the first year. Lux of course had, ugh, extracurricular things, but also just his staff and his regulars who only came to dance and drink liked him. So, she was always navigating between giving him what he needed and was, even now, too proud to ask for, and making sure she didn’t overdo it.

Cause, yeah, he wasn’t wrong, and she did feel sorry for him. Also, since her parents were alive, which they so wouldn’t be without him, she did feel like she’d owe him _forever_, no matter what he said about debts.

But he was still her friend, and she touched him before when things were…well they were never _normal_…and she wasn’t sure they were _better_ before because she was young and knew but didn’t really and he was distant. But things were assuredly _different_ now (jury in her mind was out on if it was all completely worse), yet he’d always been her friend, and she’d always wrapped her arms around his waist like a human missile as a kid.

It was just freaking complicated.

“Spawn, are you quite alright?” he waved one massive hand in front of her. “Did I?”

“Nah, hey, I have my backpack with me. I have this quiz tomorrow on Gabriel García Marquez. I don’t suppose you’re any good at Spanish?”

“I thought you’d practiced up with your abuelos?”

“Oh, I speak well, finally. They were new to Austin when they had Dad and only spoke English at home, so he’d learn to fit in better, which I get that. Anyway, since I was taking it AP in high school, they started practicing and the oral’s great. The reading’s hard!”

Lucifer shrugged. “Alas, you’d want Amenadiel. I may speak every language, but I’ve never been a scholar, and I cannot read it.”

“Damn.” She sighed, desperately wanting to do well on her exam tomorrow morning before Chem. “Did you sleep with him?”

“I have you know that I have not slept with every writer in existence.”

“Well, did you?”

“Just the once. Come on, urchin, let’s discuss what we can about Macondo, and then I’ll order in dinner. A woman cannot live on shrimp tacos alone.”

“I can try.”

“I veto that. You need more vegetables, Beatrice. Please.”

“Chocolate cake after?”

“Are you nine?”

“I just…sure, Luci, let’s get to work.”

**

To say that dinner with Cheryl was tense would be an understatement. To be fair, Trixie had been in worse situations, but only because she’d been kidnapped by a psychopathic cop and almost murdered. Oh, and attacked by freaking vampires. So, this was definitely top five in her crappy life experiences so far.

(One was when her mom was poisoned, and two was the day she found out she was moving to Texas. Two would have been the day they told her they were separating…but since her mom and dad had remarried about six years ago, well, it kind of didn’t count anymore, right?)

Maze was fiddling with her demon blade, spinning it back and forth over her knuckles, while Cheryl sat next to Trixie and shook. Lucifer was trying. Dear universe was he trying, but his prattling on about his visit to Baltimore in 1834---because of course he’d fucked Edgar Allan Poe---didn’t seem to be calming Cheryl like at all, even if it was a fun fact, kind of, about where she was from originally. Also, note to self, if Lucifer hadn’t at least partially inspired _The Mask of the Red Death_, then Trixie was actually an ewok and not a mostly-miracle.

Meanwhile, Trixie was watching all of this volley back and forth while trying to figure out how to get it back on the rails.

Any rails at all.

“And that was my time in Baltimore. I honestly have not passed by Maryland much. I’ve _never_ been to D.C. Pfft, and they say I’m from Hell. I do not do deals there. Most of them filter down to me eventually anyway and---”

“Okay, so maybe not talking about Hell could help?” Trixie said, not even sure if she was squeaking on her question or not.

Maze stopped spinning her blade. “Not-so-little human, what are we supposed to be doing here. I mean, I’m not exactly Mary Poppins and Lucifer’s not…cuddly.”

“Nope,” her friend said, popping that “p” in the annoying way he had.

Cheryl shook even harder. “I…I’m sorry. This is just a lot.”

“And you guys aren’t helping. I get it,” Trixie started, crossing her arms over her chest. “you have big, scary reputations and street cred to maintain.” She eyed Lucifer. “And you’ve slept with most of the Western World, gotcha.”

“Don’t be absurd. I’ve never limited myself to hemispheres.”

Cheryl stopped shivering but just shook her head between Maze and Lucifer, as if she couldn’t figure out what to make of either of them. “Huh?”

“But, the fact that you, Maze, even know who Mary Poppins is tells me that Miss Linda, you, and Charlie have watched that movie cause you have a godson you dote on which no other Lilim does.”  


“Charlie’s awesome! And soon I am sure I can teach him throwing knives.”

“Maybe,” Trixie admitted, but she bet Miss Linda wouldn’t let it happen till Charlie was over eighteen. But hope sprang eternal for Maze when it concerned hunting. “And, again, Luci, your solve rate with uh, well, you know---”

“Decker,” Maze completed.

_Great, thanks. I try and avoid my mom mentions directly…_

“Anyway, back in the LAPD were like the best at the precinct.”

Maze grinned. “Oh, we both know. Dan used to whine and whine about it. It was hysterical.”

“My dad is not that bad. Yes, he’s cheesy and overprotective and so my dad, but he’s not a complete doofus.”

Lucifer smirked. “If it makes you feel better, urchin, Daniel is more complicated than most humans. He resisted the Angel of Death’s blade once. I respected that.”

“Angel of Death?” Cheryl blurted out. “Is he coming too?”

“Rae Rae is a ‘she’ and I’m not on anything but poor terms with my siblings,” Lucifer replied, some of the sarcasm taken out of him. His wings slouched at that reminder of his family. “Miss Owen, forgive me. I did think that a story about your home state…I am not sure what I was thinking. I preferred to attempt rapier wit, but I should have let you lead. What do Mazikeen and I need to do to assure you that you shall only be protected by us?”

Cheryl hesitated. “I don’t know. Like am I going to hell?”

Lucifer shrugged. “To be quite honest, I never had dominion over that. It’s based on guilt.”

“That doesn’t seem fair because psychopaths---“ Cheryl started.

“I never said that Father was fair. However, at the end of it all, if you have guilt for sins on your death bed, then you might. Would you if you died tomorrow because Mazikeen saved you? Assuredly not.”

“Are you evil?”

“He’s really not,” Trixie cut in.

Maze eyed her like she’d tried to take a bite out of the silverware or some other considerable level of social faux pas but didn’t speak.

Lucifer hesitated. “I used to think I could be better than I am. I was wrong. I am selfish, rash, petty, and vengeful, but I protect what is mine. You matter to Trixie, and thus, by extension, you matter to me and Mazikeen. I am unfailingly honest, especially at this point in my long and wicked life. And I have _never_ welched on a deal. Not once, no matter how dearly that has cost me.”

Trixie filed that away for later. She knew somehow that had to do with Cain…she just wasn’t sure how yet.

“And?”  


“I swear to you, Cheryl Owen, that Mazikeen and I shall endeavor with all our power to never let any harm come to Beatrice or to someone she cares about. That you will be as safe as we can possibly make you. If you stay in New Orleans and at school, we will keep an eye on you, and any vampire foolish enough to try and harm you again, well, they will fair so much worse than the last ones.”

Trixie swallowed. She knew exactly what that meant even if Cheryl wasn’t piecing it all together. Lucifer was an expert at torture, as was Maze. It was what they’d spent eons doing. With a nearly invulnerable victim who could be abused for years…oh it would be so very much worse.

“See, then this is good, right guys?” Trixie finally said, struggling to keep them moving and not dwelling on torture memory lane.

Maze nodded. “The kid likes you, so I like you. Besides, I’ve saved you once. I’m used to it.”

“Great, and uh,” Trixie checked her phone. “We should get back to the sorority house now. I mean, we got all that air cleared and…”

  
“Will you hurt me?” Cheryl asked, looking between Lucifer and Maze.

Lucifer flinched. It was subtle, but she noticed the rigidity in the set of his shoulders and the way the glow of his eyes dimmed. She never should have begged him to do this.

“Believe me, Miss Owen, I do not harm humans. It is the one law of Father’s that is iron clad. I will never harm you or kill you, and Mazikeen vows the same, don’t you?”  


Maze nodded. “Like I said, Trix likes you, so I like you. It’s all I need to know to consider you family. But no, you only need to stay out of cemeteries at night from now on. Deal, Red?”

Cheryl nodded and sank down in her seat. “Okay. I just, I want to go home now. Can we go?”

Lucifer sighed and the breeze he kicked up made her hair flutter, Cheryl’s too. “Court is dismissed, then. So let it be written, yadda yadda yadda. Of course, you may leave at any time. You’ll find, if you stay around Trixie and, by extension, us enough, that I have nothing but respect for free will. You only need to do what you want to do, Miss Owen. So, perhaps, Beatrice, it is best if you take your friend home and rest.”

  
They both stood, and she nodded. “I…Luci, if you want me to…I still have Tuesday off…”

He eyed Maze and his wings were so damn droopy behind him. “This tete-a-tete has been rather taxing, spawn. Perhaps next week as promised?”

She smiled at him, but her face hurt with the falseness of the gesture. Trixie felt awful because this had been like pouring salts in all his wounds. And yet, Cheryl was so close to the edge of who knew what. Her sorority sister needed this too, needed to feel safe. Trixie promised herself she’d make it up to Lucifer next Monday. Maybe she could bake him or bring him something special he’d like.

Maze stood as well and returned to the bar without much hassle. That was just Maze, demoness of few words and even less patience. Maybe she had the right idea.

Before she and Cheryl left, however, Trixie eased over to his side of the booth and, leaning up towards him, pecked his cheek as she had before, that promissory gesture she always gave her dad when he pretended to sulk about how she’d forgotten him at college. Although, uh, to be fair, she’d never been Lucifer’s kid. But she had learned a lot from him and, granted, most of it wasn’t exactly the best set of ideas for a seven-year-old.

“Next Monday then. And any movies you want this time, no matter how stupid. As long as---”

His eyes brightened at that, the humor slowly eeking back into them. “There is no hot tub in them. A deal is a deal, urchin.”

She nodded and pretended not to notice Cheryl’s scrutiny at both of them. “Always.”

**

Midterms loomed that week and Trixie was glad for it. She didn’t have time to deal with juggling Lucifer’s tattered (did it count even as tattered if it was barely held together at all and resembled Swiss cheese) self-esteem and Cheryl’s flimsy sanity while she was locked in the stacks of the main bio-sci library. Usually, she hated all of Pachinsky’s stuff, but for four days, she had to study and couldn’t really be reached for anything else.

It was blissful.

To be fair, she did call Lucifer each evening just to check in with him. He answered, chatted amiably but always stuck to cocktail party level bullshit, mostly the rumors circling amongst the Lilim and the human staff (filtered to him through Maze) at _Tenebrae_. No conversation lasted more than five minutes, but he seemed okay. Cheryl was doing better, at least Trixie hoped so. She’d had dinner with her in the sorority dining hall on Wednesday, and her shaking was gone. The circles under her eyes were no longer dark. Plus, Cheryl had only reached to scratch her arms a few times. Maybe her friend wasn’t thrilled that the Lord of the Flies (seriously made reading that book this semester in freshman comp super weird) watched over them, but she seemed to be less terrified of being vamp chow, so that was…it was getting better.

By Saturday, she was wiped.

And genuinely surprised when, shortly after sundown, Cheryl knocked on her door. Trixie had been sitting on her bed and giving Beelzebub some treats. She brightened when her friend entered and set her pet back in his cage.

“Hey, you want to get out of here?” Cheryl asked.

“What did you have in mind?”

“No clubs. Not _Tenebrae_, but nothing else either. I honestly heard about this new soft serve yogurt place. It’s a couple blocks off campus, and I’m sure that sounds lame on a Saturday night. I mean, but I need lame right now. Totally my treat with extra sprinkles?”

“You don’t have to bribe me,” Trixie said, spreading some hand sanitizer on her palms. “Sounds great. Let’s hop to it.”

They walked down the stairs, and she ended up passing by Mrs. Murchison, the house mother, in the front hall. The older woman had a permanent death glare leveled at Trixie, and it was pretty petty. Trixie couldn’t help at all that Lucifer had gone nuts with gift giving last month. Yeesh. What would the woman’s reaction be to some girl who was actually being stalked? Ugh. After that, they slipped out of the front door and walked in the dark for at least a block before Cheryl started up a conversation.

“So, seriously, what’s up with you and Lucifer?”  


Trixie frowned. She was honestly confused by the question. There wasn’t anything to be up about. Their relationship was both incredibly complicated and weirdly simple. The complicated part was that her parents had known and worked with him and, she was sure even if her dad didn’t _know all of it_, they both pretty much hated Lucifer now. The even more complicated part was that he was the Devil, and she was half-miracle, and that was super fucking weird. But, honestly, that wasn’t what she thought about most of the time. So, she told Cheryl the simple part instead:

“He’s my friend. I mean, it’s kind of new cause before I was pretty young when we knew each other, but we hang out. I go watch movies at his place or whatever he chooses to do cause, obviously, Lucifer doesn’t leave _Tenebrae_ if he can avoid it.”

“Unless there are vampires?”

“Basically. Maze said that was the first time she’d seen him leave the bar at all since the day they moved in.” Trixie decided not to mention the forceful um “suggestion” to her chemistry teacher a week or so later. “But it’s not…we’re not up there like sacrificing goats or I don’t know what. Half the time I do my chem homework, and he forces me to watch boring and cheesy crap on Netflix.”  


“He’s Satan.”

“Again, like I said, it was a job he was forced to take on, and he’s retired, you know?”

“Huh.” She frowned as they turned the corner away from the bright lights of the nearest block to campus, the main drag, so to speak, with the local bars and the drug stores. “He looked like that solving crimes in L.A.? Cause I have heard of some fucked up things there, but I mean, I figure even Hollywood is not that weird.”

Trixie frowned, feeling a bit uncomfortable about all of this. She didn’t really like talking about Lucifer behind his back. With Maze, she shared mutual concern and, often, grumbled about his prima donna tendencies. Which totes fair. However, this felt wrong, like Cheryl wanted her to dump on him.

“I…he was different in L.A. He’s not now. It is what it is. I guess, kind of, maybe Maze and I take turns looking after him. What happened…it wasn’t fair, not at all. But I’m serious when I tell you he’s a good person.”

“He’s pretty parboiled.”

She rounded on Cheryl and stuck her hands on her hips. “Excuse me?”

Cheryl smirked and the look was cutting and cruel. It was only then that Trixie realized how dark her surroundings were, how they were nowhere near any businesses or really any city lights anymore. _What the fuck_? “I mean, are you into that?”  


Trixie was both super insulted on Lucifer’s behalf and a bit revolted because, eww, he still was probably in tragic, Romeo-and-Juliet-style-love with her mom. No, Lucifer was just family. And you loved your family, no matter what they looked like. “No, of course not.”

“Because he’s disgusting.”  


“He’s my best friend,” she said, not at all surprised that even after five weeks, it was true. Maze was too, but it was a different way. Hell, Maze was almost like the best big sister or weird aunt ever. Lucifer was…he just _was_. “I don’t get the attitude. He and Maze saved our lives. They promised to _keep doing it,_ if shit gets out of hand ever again. You don’t have to like them, but you don’t get to shit on them either. Lucifer can’t help what happened to him.”

Maybe he could have made a different choice with Cain, but it was ten years ago, and it wasn’t going to get better.

Cheryl shrugged. “Just interesting, that’s all. I mean, you kissed him.”

“Um, peck on the cheek. I gave my dad that when I breezed in for Thanksgiving. I just…he seemed kind of sad when we ended dinner, and I wanted him to know things with us were cool. We had a bad fight sort of to kick off stuff in New Orleans, and I just…how is this any of your business?”

Her friend started to circle her, her pace a slow, calculated stalk. “Just curious. I wonder if he knows _what_ you are. Why Alistair says you taste so good…”

“What the actual fuc---”

She didn’t get a chance to get the words out of her mouth or to slip her knife from its holster. Not before strong, icy cold hands were around her throat, and she passed out from lack of oxygen to her brain.

**

Trixie woke up shackled to the wall of a crypt.

“Come on. Seriously? This is a terrible idea, you know. I mean, you’re clearly aware of who my best friends are. Are you deeply stupid, or are you masochists? Hell’s top torturer and the Devil are going to raze this shit to the ground. Hello!”

She yanked the chains but had no hope of making them budge. Seriously, God (so finally the time to think that), if she were going to be half-miracle, then could she get some superstrength or Wolverine powers or _something_ out of it?

“Hello! You bloodsucking cowards, come out and face me!”

She wasn’t sure what she expected besides probably that ass Alistair coming back into the room (clearly he hadn’t been the one to ambush her), but the girl who couldn’t be more than fourteen or fifteen---had she been mortal---in the poodle skirt certainly wasn’t it. Though points to Trixie’s prediction skills that Alistair was trailing behind her. He was wearing a jean jacket that fit all wrong without arms to fill it out, but he was also acting like wallpaper, leaning quietly against the brick of the tomb and avoiding the scrutiny of the vampiress who’d entered first.

Trixie yanked against her manacles and hawked a loogie at the fifties vamp. “I want to go home. It’ll end much, much better for you if you let me out now. I’ll put in a good word with the Devil, and you’ll get to keep your spine.”

Maybe, probably…well, Maze might make a trophy of it, but the vampiress didn’t need to know that part.

The teenage (barely) vamp arched an eyebrow at her. When she spoke, her voice was pure Southern belle. “We know who and what you are, Beatrice Espinoza. Your friend has been working with us for weeks as our familiar. It was quite easy to track her to her aunt’s house, and even easier to convince her that if she couldn’t beat us, she could join us.”

She swallowed hard. That would explain the set up and how Cheryl was still clearly alive. It stung that her friend had sold her out to save her own skin, but that was far from Trixie’s biggest problem.

_Lucifer, Cheryl set me up. I’m in a crypt…somewhere near Tulane, I think? I don’t know how you and Maze can find me, but it’s real bad. Lots of leeches._

She wished then that being miracle also meant being part angel because it would have been better to hear anything back from her friend. Seriously, Lucifer and Maze were very fast, but even they had to know where to go first.

_Lucifer…it was a few blocks off campus by the Wilson’s Drug when I got knocked out…I dunno if that helps. Um, no one bit me yet so please just get here._

Trixie swallowed and forced herself not to pray again. He needed not to be distracted, and she knew Maze. The demon could bounty hunt anything and had to know Trixie’s own smell well by now. They’d find her, she just had to keep the sock hop vamp talking and not sucking on her.

She forced herself to be brave and glared at the vampiress, “Alright, but you have to know that when Lucifer gets here---and he so will---that he’s going to do so much worse to you than what he did to armless over there.”

Alistair didn’t even glance up, just kept looking at the floor. It was definitely a gesture deferring to the fifties vamp. Maze would deny it, but sometimes, even now, the demon would look away or lower her head in Lucifer’s presence, not nearly as often as the other Lilim, but she still did it from time to time. Trixie knew subservience when she saw it.

Perfect, not like her one time make-out partner was a slouch either. He had thralled her after all. What could this one do?

The girl-vamp smiled, and it was then that Trixie’s heart stuttered to a stop. That look she knew too; she’d seen it on Maze’s face when she planned a huge bounty trip _and_ that spring she’d been so mad at Miss Linda and lovingly taught Trixie to take out Achilles’ tendons. _If they can’t walk, they can’t betray you…_The vampiress was about to go on the hunt.

“We have no quarrel with the Devil or his demons. They’re flashy and ridiculous, but they’re a distraction that help keep the locals from taking our own threats seriously. But miracles are exceedingly rare, and their blood is so very potent. You’re the most desired and sought after of delicacies, Miss Espinoza. Despite the dangers, you’re too valuable to leave be.”

“He won’t even kill you,” she replied, starting to wonder where the cavalry was. “He can keep you alive for centuries. I’d think super hard about that.”

The vampiress shrugged. “That’s the thing about miracle blood, isn’t it? You have funny effects on the infernal and the divine, on anything magical really. Wholly unpredictable on a case-by-case basis, but I’ve dug a bit into Lucifer Morningstar and his life back before this in L.A. I’m willing to bet you even the playing field, miracle.”

_Shit._

“Let me go. Besides, how does some vamp barely over what? Eighty maybe? How do you even know this much about miracles?” _Especially when Maze and Lucifer don’t._

Alistair finally spoke. “You don’t get to talk to Esmée like that.”

Esmée, apparently, held up her hand to silence him. “Mind your place.” She sidled up to Trixie and stood on her tip toes so that she could sniff her neck. Then, the vampiress drew her tongue over the hollow in Trixie’s throat, not too far from her carotid. “You don’t know anything about what you are, do you?”

“Enough,” she hedged. Miracle by-product, really. Her mom had been made to screw with (maybe not literally) Lucifer and nullify what he could do and his immortality. Pretty simple. No side benefits to any of it. In fact, one generation over, it was a complete fucking con for Trixie.

“No,” Esmée said, leaning back and pushing her dark braids over her shoulder. “_Mon cherí_, you know nothing. I’m not as old as your friends, but I was here when this was barely a trading port for the Spanish, and I’ve hung around with some of the most gifted Voodoo practioners in the city. I’ve tasted a couple other miracles in my time, one I hunted down myself. Kept that one alive for decades with little, tiny sips.” She licked her neck again and Trixie bucked as hard against the manacles as she could, hissing when the metal bit into her skin.

  
The chains didn’t budge.

“Go to hell. I’m not your cow.”

“In point of fact, _miracle_, you very much are. To think that from what I’ve heard, this time, God sent his best warrior to make one of you. Usually, he sends his most loyal angel. Hasn’t sent that one in centuries, though. I was beginning to fear I’d never see a miracle again. Never _taste_ you.” She licked her lips in anticipation. “This will be everything I’ve ever wanted. I’m sure. I can smell the power radiating off you.” Esmée turned and nodded to Alistair. “Drink first, childe. Take back what was stolen from you.”

Trixie laughed. “Oh, I’m super not like that. I promise. I’m not Jesus. I can’t do magical healing; I just sort of have a few hiccups.”

_Like Satan can die around me, no big deal, really_.

“Oh, and a second-generation miracle at that. How extraordinary! You have no idea yet what your blood can do…how _everyone_ will want it.” She turned her toward Alistair and beckoned him forward. “Drink, but don’t drain more than is necessary. We won’t be able to make a profit off of doling her out slowly, childe, if you do. The community will pay ever so much for her since miracles are too rare to waste.”

Trixie had had it. “I’m not a fucking delicacy to sell. What kind of scheme even is this?”

Soon. Satan help her because soon Maze was going to be here, and Trixie still needed to try and get free before then. She needed fucking _out_. Thrashing against the chains that held her down, she kicked out and cursed a blue streak, did anything she could to delay the bite.

Esmée looked into Trixie’s face, and her dark brown eyes were almost as deep and fathomless as Lucifer’s had been. Like with Alistair, Trixie felt pulled into them, but it spread faster, and she wasn’t left merely disoriented and swooning. No. Her whole damn body went numb. She couldn’t even speak, just let out a weak whimper as, once again, Alistair’s fangs were on her throat.

It was then that a huge crash resounded through the vault and a roar unlike anything she’d ever heard rang out through the air. She knew it was Lucifer even if she couldn’t see around Alistair’s frame. It was like the growl he’d leveled at her back in his place, but so very much worse. This was the roar of a lion before it clamped down on a zebra’s neck, the shrill whistle of a freight train about to bare down on you, and the unearthly howl of a twister all rolled into one. Her whole body shook, and her teeth clattered with the noise.

Even Alistair stilled.

It was enough. It gave Maze the opening she needed to slice the leech’s neck clean through, even as Lucifer started trading blows with Esmée. Trixie couldn’t see but she could hear the growls, shrieks, and thuds as the two attacked each other. Before her, Maze worked to crack open the manacles and pull her from the wall. She must have been hanging up longer than she thought because her legs were like Jell-O when she tried to put her weight on them again.

Maze sidled up under her and let Trixie lean on her left side. With her right hand, the demon held her hell-forged knife high. “Lucifer, let’s go.”

Trixie finally was angled with Maze’s help well enough to see everything---the various sarcophagus-looking marble things cracked from where Esmée or Lucifer had been thrown into them, the vampiress’s feral snarl even as blood dripped from her face, which now looked more like shredded hamburger than anything else, and the bright, hungry gleam in Lucifer’s crimson eyes when he landed on his feet on a tomb and spread his wings wide. He roared again, and even Maze shuddered beside her.

“I warned you not to touch her. _None_ of you get to have your hands or filthy teeth over her. I was going to make this last,” he panted. “But maybe this will leave a more indelible impression on the rest of the nest.” He leapt and swiped for her neck, but Esmée, despite the blood streaming into her one, good eye anticipated that. She feinted right just in time to dig a dagger, hilt deep, into his gut.

Trixie screamed. “Lucifer!” Then, despite her whooziness, she rushed to him, even as he clattered to the floor.

_No, no, no._

She’d lived through this before with Malcolm. He had wings, and Maze swore he could come back, but what if he didn’t? What if he just chose to stay below where things might be somehow easier for him? What if she lost him?

Over her shoulder, Maze had rushed the vampiress and landed an impressive backhanded blow against her. Esmée stumbled and, looking between the wounded Devil and the advancing demon, made her choice. She whispered a few terse words in possibly French and disappeared.

Trixie whistled low even as she tried to hold Lucifer’s side up. He was so massive and also so freaking heavy. Fuck. She moved away from him just enough to slip off her jacket and pushed it against his torso to staunch the flow of blood. She knew enough from working with Dr. Simmons to know that taking a serrated blade out---any blade really---would just make the wound worse.

Maze was cursing in English and Lilim as she slid into place beside both of them. “I hate this town sometimes. Of course, that bloodsucker knows all about spells. Can’t just have one thing to deal with. Hey, Lucifer!” she said, snapping her fingers in front of him. “Stay awake!”

He was hunched toward the wall, even as Trixie tried to soak up as much blood as she could---and it was way, way too much---but he was still conscious and aware. His eyelids flickered open and those hellfire eyes regarded them both, even if they were barely flickering with flame.

Trixie had never seen them that dim since coming to the Big Easy. That couldn’t be good, could it?

“Mazikeen, take the urchin. Take her back to _Tenebrae_ and do not go anywhere else. Take her to my room and make sure Taka and Ez are with you. All the Lilim are to take care of her.”

“Where are you going?” Trixie demanded. “Don’t you dare…”

Lucifer coughed and he spit blood as he did so. “Beatrice,” he hacked again. “I need you more than a mile away from me, remember? The sooner Maze gets you away from me, the sooner it’s all just a flesh wound.”

She was crying, and it was irrational and stupid, but she wanted to stay. There was no way Trixie wanted him to be alone. What if he…

But strong hands were clamped around her and Maze was already dragging her away from him. “We have to move, kid.”

“I…but he’s…”

“He’ll get better. I promise you, as long as a damn Decker woman isn’t near him, he’ll be fine. Now, let’s go.”

She didn’t even get to argue before Maze yanked her away and raced with her back to the club.

**

She passed out before Lucifer got back. Maze promised her that if he had died and gone…well _home_ wasn’t the right word for Hell, but she supposed that _kingdom_ was still the technical title…if Lucifer were technically dead that Maze would know it as his chief bodyguard. It was cold comfort, but Trixie was so tired and scared, and the adrenaline had drained out of her hours ago. It was too hard to stay awake.

And so simple to fall into the ridiculously comfy mattress of his beyond-California-sized-king bed and pass out.

At first, she dreamed. In it, she was little, and Lucifer was finally teaching her to drive the Corvette liked he’d promised (okay, bribed) her with years ago. They were at a culvert, a small access road off the PCH, and the sun beat down on both of them as she learned the art of using the clutch while overlooking the Pacific Ocean. He wasn’t the Devil then. Well, no more than he’d ever been in Los Angeles, all the red skin hidden by the face and body he’d been presumably created with back when the universe was young. The lesson progressed, but then suddenly the scene flickered, and she was alone in the hanger.

Trixie was college-aged now, and this wasn’t…she never had to go back here again, never had to deal with Malcolm another time because he was dead and in Hell already. Her heart pounded as she wound through the labyrinth of supplies and huge, grey shelves. When she got to the wide-open expanse by the planes, Lucifer---as Devilish as he got--- was sprawled out, dead before her. His wings were so very expansive, even crumpled under him, they spread at least twenty feet across the cold concrete. The pool of blood around his abdomen seemed even wider, seeping everywhere. When she looked down, his eyes were red but the light in them had vanished.

So unnaturally dim.

Trixie threw herself on him and beat at his chest and tried to wake him up, but his body was cold.

The Devil shouldn’t be cold, should he?

“Lucifer! You promised!”

A change again, and she was in the apartment she’d shared with her mom and Maze for a couple of years in Los Angeles. The place was a complete mess---the sofa shredded, the cabinets exploded to splinters, her bounty of alien drawings left as nothing but confetti along with the damn door they’d been hanging from. Her breath in her throat, she slid from the bedroom, through the gaping hole where the door had been, and watched as Lucifer and Marcus fought. Not that it was much of a fight as the Devil threw Marcus through the air. Lucifer bellowed as the human shattered through the sliding glass door to the balcony.

_The term, I believe, is called “curb stomp.”_

Trixie watched something that had never happened---they’d never fought there---but shivered anyway as the Devil arched his clawed, leathery wings high and stalked his injured prey to the veranda. She followed, whimpering and begging him to stop, but he wasn’t listening. Not to her.

Not anymore.

Once he reached Marcus, Lucifer roared again, just as he had in the crypt. It hurt to hear, made her bones rattle and ache with its force.

“Don’t,” Marcus wheezed. “I’ll go to jail. I’ll confess. I’ll never hurt Chloe again.”

Lucifer held up his right hand and shook his forefinger, twisted and gnarled as it was, back and forth. When he spoke, it was nothing but pure menace. “That decision is no longer up to you, Cain.”

Then he lunged; then he bit the other man’s head off.

**

Trixie shot up in bed and blinked around her. It took a couple minutes to remind herself she was at _Tenebrae_ tonight. That Lucifer and Maze had saved her life for the second time in as many months. The Lilim weren’t there, and the room felt empty. Where was Lucifer? He’d promised, and he had to come back.

He never lied, after all.

“Maze! Lucifer!”

A blessedly familiar voice (yeah, she knew how that sounded; God could bite her) called out to Trixie. She arched her head over her shoulder and glanced toward the alcove leading to Lucifer’s bathroom. “Urchin, are you alright?”

She frowned. “Did you sleep in your bathroom? Don’t tell me Maze gave you like a palette of towels or something. You’re actually hurt, or, you know, you could have taken the couch or kicked _me_ to the couch.”

The voice continued, but Lucifer didn’t pop out and into the main room yet. “Beatrice, are you quite awake?”

“I’m talking, right?” She huffed. “I swear, Lucifer, this is so not the time for a trick.”

“No, it’s not, but I merely wanted to ensure you’re fully awake.” He slipped out from the doorway and stalked toward the bed, though he came to a stop at least a yard from it. It was dark and heavily shadowed in his room, thanks to the thick curtains on every window and how late it had to be. The only thing she could really make out were the outlines of his wings and his eyes, which, much to her relief, glittered as vibrantly as they ever had.

Honestly, she knew he’d never believe her, but they were gorgeous in their own way. Off putting at first, sure, because any sane human would feel the instinctive fear upon seeing them the first time. Now, that she’d gotten used to them, Trixie found them hypnotizing, like the flames of a roaring fire in a stone hearth.

Thank Maze for her quick thinking because they weren’t dim anymore. And he was safe. Healed.

“I am awake, Luci, I swear.”

  
He nodded and slid onto the foot of the bed. “Forgive me…I just realized that when you woke up that, well, you might be disorientated and this,” he said, pointing to himself. “would scare you. It would only be natural.”

She swallowed. “I was more scared of something happening to you. Maze said you weren’t dead, but I wasn’t sure and…”

He set his hand, palm flat, carefully on the crown of her head. Lucifer tried so very hard, and he could be surprisingly gentle when he wanted to be, was learning every day to work around his claws. Currently, he was slowly stroking her hair without harming her. It felt safe.

It probably shouldn’t, but Trixie was hardly fucking normal now, was she?

“I’m fine,” Lucifer added.

“Really?”  


“Well, I may have a crink in my neck from sleeping on the tile near a miracle, but that’s my own bloody fault.”

She rolled her eyes and patted the bed beside her. “You wouldn’t have freaked me out.”

Granted, her nightmare had and the less she said about it the better. It hadn’t been all bad. Learning to drive the Corvette, kind of, had been cool. But it was stupid what she’d dreamed, the jangled worries of her crazy and completely out-of-the-loop hindbrain. Lucifer would always protect her, and what she’d imagined wasn’t even _close_ to what happened with Cain.

“Urchin, are you trying to find lumps in my mattress? I assure you there are none.”

“Do not tell me the price. I know you totally want to, but just don’t.”

“I’m not that gauche,” he snarked. Then, he pulled his wings in as tightly as he could and hunched in his shoulders. _Making himself smaller, less threatening_. “Spawn, I can take the couch.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” she admitted.

“I…perhaps this would be a poor idea.” He held up his claws to explain, and she missed the way he’d been stroking her hair earlier. “I don’t tend to have bad dreams, but I have claws and the spikes on my back can hardly be safe.”

She frowned and considered that. “How many pillows do you have?”

“What?”

“You, Lucifer, are the ultimate fan of creature comforts. How many you got?”

“It is a rather large bed in my defense.”  


“How many?”

“More than a dozen.” He said as she hopped up and found the light switch after some fumbling. Lucifer blinked at the influx of light and huffed. “You merely had to ask me, child. I can see better in the dark than I do even in daylight.”

“Really?”

“That has always been true, urchin. There is very little ambient light in Hell. The Lilim are the same.”  


“Great, then, function well under the halogens and get to forting! We’ll make a little wall between us so that if you, uh, accidentally spike something, then it has feathers and isn’t me.”

He frowned but stood to do as she asked. “I suppose but…”

“I almost died…again, which I super intend not to make a thing, I swear. But for right now, I need a rest. You know? And I can’t do that if I’m scared, and you make me not. Uh, scared that is.”

Lucifer had already piled three, fluffy pillows with red silk covers up in the midline of the bed. He was getting into the spirit of creating the Great Wall of Feathers between them when he stilled and glanced at her. “How can that be so? I…”

She set two of her own pillows down the line and went to the far corner to get a couple more for good measure. “…you’re my best friend, dummy. Don’t question it. I always slept better with Miss Alien around or, you know, when I got a little bigger and if Mom and Dad were on stakeouts…then I knew it was okay cause Maze had my back. We’re a team, right?”

“I thought that Mazikeen---”

She flinched as she finished setting up pillows eight and nine. Perfect, if the worst happened, she wouldn’t get shish kabobbed, and Lucifer’s oddly prim modesty would get preserved. Trixie didn’t even wait for Lucifer to approve of her wall design or not. She just dove into the bed and pulled the cover up to her chin. “Honestly, by now, Maze is family, like my bigger, so much cooler sister. You’re my best friend, and that’s how I think of it.”

“I suppose.”

“You have to turn off the light and get in cause I could sleep for another twelve hours, and I’m so going to.”

He hesitated again, as if she could hurt him, which, okay, technically she could. “Very well, spawn, but if anything…just let me know if I scratch you.”

“You won’t.” She lifted her tired (seriously, way too fucking tired, stupid vampires) head and shot him a death glare. “No more stalling. I’m wiped, dude, and besides, I have faith in you, okay?”

He paused and the look he gave her…she wasn’t sure how his face as it was could convey such awe and gratitude; she thought it was in the quirk of his head and the glittering of his eyes perhaps. “Thank you, Beatrice, that means so very much to me.”

“And a nap means everything to me, Old Scratch. Get a move on!”

He grumbled to himself but soon the light was off, and he was ensconced on his side of the bed. She’d felt when the weight had dipped down on the mattress. “Very well, then. Pleasant dreams, urchin.”

“Goodnight, Lucifer.” She cracked her eyes open and arched her neck up enough to glimpse his face over Mt. St. Pillows. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Well, how magnanimous of you. I’m rather glad myself.”

She smiled at that and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

**

Trixie did not dream the rest of the night, or if she did, she did not remember them well enough to either find comfort in or be scared by them. What did wake her was the heavenly smell of pancakes and sausage wafting toward her as well as her shoulder being shaken a bit roughly by Satan, himself.

“Beatrice, you do know that it’s almost two p.m., do you not?”

She bolted out of bed and only Lucifer’s superior reflexes and coordination prevented him from dropping the plate. True to her nose and guess, it was overflowing not just with eggs and sausage but a couple of fresh beignets covered in sugar as well. Good on him for righting the dish, breakfast would have been a shame to lose.

Trixie yawned and blinked back at him, even as he set one of the colony of pillows on her lap and then the plate and silverware after. “You made this?”

He snorted. “Be realistic, urchin. I had Maze go on a run to Café Du Monde. I figured you’d be starving. You have no earthly idea how many pancakes I consumed while waiting for you to wake. Healing takes quite a bit out of a Devil.”

“Thanks, but you really needed to wake me up before noon. My parents always call me after services and…”

Lucifer quirked his head at that. There was a flicker of motion and he was just back on the other side of the bed. She blinked. Shit, she had barely even seen him move. “Yes, I was aware. They called five times, and then I made an error.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed and his wings drooped. “I tried to shoot of a quick text reply to Daniel…but I was unable to do so.” Lucifer passed her what was left of her phone, which was no longer able to turn on and had huge gashes gouged out of the glass of the screen. “I apologize profusely, of course. I can get a new one for you.”

“Same model?”  


“Well, it’s outdated by a couple of years. I was hoping to persuade you for an upgrade and---”

“Do not bribe me. Just, ugh,” she took a few frantic bites out of her pancakes and one taste of her sausage. Then, she hopped out of bed and hurried for his stairs. Lucifer kept his landline on the bar top below, after all. “I have to call them back. They’re going to freaking kill me. Sunday is my big call day to catch up with them and the abuelos and so not good.”

Lucifer followed her although at a distance because he had to have the whole breadth of the staircase in order to fit. She barely paid him any attention as she made a bee line for the phone and dialed her Dad. Her mom would check the caller i.d. Her mom would go all Veronica Mars on her. Her mom was so going to do that _anyway_.

Her dad picked up on the first ring: “Beatrice Prudence Espinoza, where the Hell have you been?”

She glared at Lucifer who was mouthing her middle name back at her. Ugh, it was her great-great grandmother’s name, and not even Maze knew about it. It was so lame. But, again, not really the time for that. Trixie focused back on her dad and hoped the Devil was smart enough to keep his mouth shut for the duration of the call.

“I’m so sorry. I was out late at a mixer with Sig Kappa and my phone ran out of charge. I just got up---”

“It’s two p.m. I’m not paying half the tuition around your loans for you to drink and sleep the weekend away.”

“Well, I still have like ten hours to do my homework,” she countered. “I just…Dad, I’m really sorry. I usually am good about keeping my phone charged. Yesterday was super crazy.”

“Were you drinking?”

“Did you ever drink underage?”

There was a muffled noise coming over everything and the audio quality changed. She flinched when she realized her dad had put it on speaker. Ugh, double perfect. “Monkey, where were you?”

“I’m, uh, at the Sig Kappa house. No, it’s so not like that. I passed out on the couch with my big sister Lettie. I’m safe, and, okay, I drank some, but you had to know when I joined a sorority that I’d do that.”

She could practically envision her parents sharing that look, that same look that preceded a super long grounding when she’d been a kid. Yeesh, being interrogated by detectives wasn’t fair.

“Trix, you shouldn’t drink till you’re twenty-one,” her mom said.

Part of her wanted to look over her shoulder and see how Lucifer was taking this. She wasn’t an idiot. Maze had excellent hearing, and she’d bet anything that the Prince of Darkness did too. This was gonna spin him out for weeks; Trixie just knew it. After all, he hadn’t heard Mom…there was no way he’d heard her voice since she’d found him over Cain’s body.

Fuck.

But she’d had to call as fast as possible. It was that or have the New Orleans P.D. doing a courtesy knock for her parents in Austin at the sorority house, and she was on thin enough ice with Mrs. Murchison as it was.

“Monkey!”

She swallowed. “Uh, yeah.”

Her mom continued. “What did I just say? You’re not paying attention!”

“I just…long night. I promise not to drink again till I’m twenty-one. I’m sorry I worried you guys.”

“And Mom and Dad,” her father cut in. “They were really agitated once we got back from mass. Trix, you can’t just…we’ve had too many scares over the years for you to go off the grid, you know?”

“I’m really sorry. I won’t happen again.”

Her mom sighed on the other end. “I love you, Monkey, and we will be having a huge talk when you’re home for spring break about drinking, answering your damn phone, and whatever you’ve got going on this semester, okay? I just…_call us_. You call us every night at eight p.m., and I don’t care if the rapture has started. You hear me? You call every night at that time, and you definitely always answer on Sundays after mass. Those are the rules.”

“Not negotiable ones, either,” her dad added.

“Of course, I love you both, and tell the abuelos I’m sorry. I…just it was a killer party and…”

“Oh, you will give us so many details about it in March, Trix,” her dad said. “Now, get back to studying and try not to do things just because you can, okay? We worry.”

“I know,” she replied. “Love you both.”

“Love you two, Monkey,” they echoed.

  
She cut off the call before it got any more excruciating. Or embarrassing.

Lucifer picked up a beignet from the box and chomped on it. He was trying so hard to pretend that the call hadn’t affected him. She was just grateful he hadn’t reached for the Scotch. “I should have…”

“It was my bad. I forgot. Yesterday was a lot, you know?”

“Of course, Beatrice, but I did not intend for you to get in trouble with Daniel and…” he hesitated. “I mean and the Det…with your mot--”

“Mom,” she said, picking up the slack for Lucifer when his voice failed him. “I’m sorry you had to overhear that.” She frowned and pulled herself up on a barstool. “All the fun hits just keep coming.”

“I can hear a voice and not crumble, urchin.” He frowned and considered her, his great brow ridge scrunching up as he tried to puzzle through something. “I never knew your mother to go to church.”

She sighed and looked down at the dark granite of the bar. Trixie wished she could be anywhere but here. “It happened after we moved, you know? It took a while, but Abuela Minnie convinced Mom to go, and I think she made friends and…”

“Don’t lie.”

“Well, my Abuela Minnie really did nag her till she came. She didn’t start going till I was in seventh grade, so it took a while to wear her down.”

“I’m why she stays active there, though, I can tell. Religion of any kind was never her bent before.”

Trixie finally forced herself to woman up and look at him. “Honestly? Probably, Lucifer, and I don’t know what to say about that.”

He nodded and finished his sugary treat in thoughtful silence. “Urchin, you were right when we struck our deal. You’re not your parents. I try not to expect you to be. The Detective and Daniel have had a long ten years as well, and I am sure have changed as much as I have.” He growled a little at that and held out his claws. “Well, perhaps not quite as much.”

“Don’t even joke.”

  
“I was always gifted at gallows humor, spawn.”

_Spawn, how heavily that term hung between them._

“I know but…”

“_But_ what is between them and me is one thing, and I will endeavor to keep it so. It is not between us. If your mother has…if the Detective finds comfort in _Him_, then I will think over that another time.”

Oh, she just bet he would. Crap. She’d have to let Maze know before she left that it was going to be a bad few weeks and to keep an extra eye on him.

“You can still talk about it. It’s okay.”

“No, because right now, I need to understand what happened with you. They were clearly fools to steal you again, but the fanged imbeciles did it anyway. So why?”

She frowned at that. Stealing kind of implied she was _his_. Then again, if a rep as _his_ in this crazy town kept her alive, then Trixie could hardly complain. “Esmée---”

“Who?”

“The vamp from straight out of_ Grease_.”

“Well, she was no Sandy,” he grumbled, grabbing another beignet. The Devil was both a cool ranch addict and loved sweets. See, totally a twelve-year-old guy deep down. “Why would she do something so suicidal?”  


Trixie started to shiver. The last week had finally hit her: the exams; the disastrous dinner with Maze, Lucifer, and that traitor, Cheryl; her parents’ grilling her; and almost dying again. All of that was bad and left her with too little sleep, even now. But the things Esmée had said, the maniacal focus on her blood, on keeping her around to sip from like a fucking juice box…it was too much.

Sobs tore from her throat, and Trixie looked away while she tried to compose herself. Just like upstairs, Lucifer moved faster than she could really perceive. One moment, he was munching on a powdered sugar-y treat, the next she was covered in him. Quite literally. He had one arm wrapped carefully around her shoulders, and, it was probably instinctual, but his left wing had gathered close around her too.

It wasn’t quite polite, but she was so curious, and he worked so tirelessly to shrink them back, to hide them from her when he could. _To make himself as small as he could, even if it were impossible._ Sniffling still, she reached out with her right hand and stroked the inside of his wing. The skin there was soft, like leather and not rough or burned like the rest of him. It was as feverishly warm as his arms were and, honestly, was like being covered by a living blanket.

He shivered a little when she stroked it.

“I…sorry, that was rude.”  


He stepped back and removed his arm and wing from her but smiled softly down at her. “No, it’s alright. I was quite worried about you. I didn’t realize my wing…” he trailed off and then looked to the floor. “It’s sensitive, that’s all, and before you asked, urchin, you don’t hurt it by touching it. I’m made of sterner stuff, am I not?”

“Yeah, I just…it’s…” she licked her lips and tried to stop her sobs. “Esmée said she was old, well, for here. I mean like maybe from the 1500s old.”

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Yes, let me marvel at that. Truly, she’s one of the ancients.”

“But she knows about magic here, and I assume you kind of don’t get mired in that crap, right?”

“Nope,” he was too withdrawn to pop his “p,” to be even that playful. “It’s a bloody hassle. Why?”

Trixie looked up at him and shivered again. “She said miracles have happened before, and that it’s rare. She’d met one and hunted down another, but that the blood is super powerful, like for spells or just as nourishment, I guess. Lucifer…they were going to keep me like a pet cow as long as they could.”

His fist shattered the granite of the bar with no effort at all. She jumped back, and he shrunk in on himself. “Forgive me, but I could not bear to hear that.”

She rolled her eyes and brought her hands down from her chest. Her heart would surely remember how to start pumping soon. “It’s cool, little warning next time there, Big Boy. Yeesh. My point is that I think the cat’s out of the bag about me, and I might not get any benefit out of miracle blood, but if you can get your hands on it for spells or, you know, lap it up, it’s pretty important. And rare. I…if their nest knows and was crazy enough to piss off the Devil for me…”

Lucifer nodded. When he spoke, his voice was hard to understand, his growl was so deep, and Trixie stayed calm only by reminding herself his wrath wasn’t aimed at her but at Esmée and her minions. “They will pay. The Lilim and I will find every last one and tear them limb from limb.”

“Good, do that, but if they have told other vamps by now…Esmée kind of seemed like if she was gonna tap my fountain, why not make a little profit on the side too, you know? What if the witches or who else know and want to get in on this for extra spell power? Blood magic is a thing, right?”

“It’s a horrible fucked up mess.” His tone was still horrifying as he spoke, and it forced her hair to stand on end. Even though she knew he’d die to protect her (and almost had last night), his anger was scary. The Devil continued, “It is a nasty business. Low level demons and Fallen who are exiled from my kingdom---I know, _the irony_\---engage in it. No good comes from it. Ever.”

“Well, some crazy ass wizards or witches or whoever might want to try and nab me too. We don’t know who Alistair or Esmée advertised me to!”

“Then you stay here. With the seven Lilim and me, you can’t be hurt. They can’t get to you here.”

She hopped back off the stool and started to pace. “I can’t just live here. I have classes. I have to finish the semester. Dude, I have spring break in a month and Mom and Dad? Gonna notice if I don’t show back up since they already bought my plane ticket.”

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at her, and they were bright as fireworks. “You stay here, end of story. I won’t have every lowlife supernatural in the city after you until I figure this out. If they’re foolish enough to come and fight seven Lilim and _me_, well, there won’t be anything left of them.”

“I can’t drop out of school and just hole up in a tower, Lucifer.” She turned quickly on her heels and threw her arms up in the air. “I have a life!”

She stopped when she realized how that sounded. Hazarding a glance up at his face, Trixie swallowed hard when she spied the crestfallen look in his dimming eyes. His wings dragged on the floor now, and she was sure he hadn’t realized that had happened to them.

“And I understand that I don’t. I have a joke. I get to muddle through it and pretend it’s a life, but still a cosmic joke at best, nevertheless. That said, this is about me being selfish, Beatrice. This is about being smart and marshalling resources. I can’t let you die. I would never forgive myself, and it is _my _fault. You’re right, it would have taken longer, but I should have sent Maze to find the nest, herself. I left the one survivor who had tasted you…I did not anticipate he would figure out what you were, that it would even matter.”

She sighed and inhaled slowly, thinking of the long in and out of the air in her lungs. It had grounded her with her nightmares after Malcolm, and it kept panic attacks away now. Trixie walked back to Lucifer and set a hand on his stomach, tracing the outline where there was still a thin scar from last night. She was so grateful to whoever was on this---whoever still cared about him from his family or the universe or just luck, itself---that he’d lived.

“I didn’t mean it.” She sighed and moved her hand from his abdomen to as high on his right shoulder as she could reach. “You have a life. Most people don’t run one of the most popular clubs in the Big Easy. They don’t have a miracle best friend, literally. I…but I meant that I have school, and I can’t drop out of it. I definitely can’t change my routine in front of my parents, or they will _come here_, and neither of us want that. Besides, Mom has the same miracle-deal so that would just be like adding another steak on the grill. We _can’t_.”

He nodded and his wings lifted. A little. “Then, let me send Maze to your dorm to collect what you need for studying tonight. You have a big lecture hall class for chemistry and the same arrangement for freshman composition, correct?”

“Yeah? So?”  


“She can sneak in the back and keep an eye on you then. If you have to miss lab, well, Professor Pachinsky and I have an understanding.”

“Then?”

“It’ll give me twenty-four hours to solicit what I need from my sister, Rae Rae. At least that much should enable to me to guarantee Maze or Taka or both can follow you at all times on campus.”  


“Um, we do have security, and they’re gonna notice strange chicks in leather with knives. Pretty obvious.”  


“I shall figure it out, trust me, urchin.”

“I do.”

He smiled at that and his eyes brightened. Those wings lifted just a bit more. “Lovely, then we have a plan. We will find a way to make sure that nothing touches you.”

“Sure, and good that I can still be in school. Dad and Mom’s checkbook and the non-refundable tuition thank you.”

“I would be happy to---”

“And nope. I will get you to understand eventually that you can’t just throw money at things.”

Lucifer sighed. “You won’t allow me to do so. That’s the difference. I have few things left to me, yet an ocean of money I could never spend even in my lifetime is still there. But, you’re right, you can’t drop out of your life. It would raise too much suspicion.”

“But even with bodyguards…that’s just playing defense.”

“I have mystical contacts, of a sort. John is not exactly what I’d call a friend, but he didn’t try to kill me last time we met so I suppose that is something.”

“What?” She gaped at him, surely she’d misheard him.

“John’s complicated, but he usually does the right thing. I’m sure he can be convinced to advise me without much blood shed on either side. Assuredly, he’d be a worthwhile place to start.” He sighed and hesitated before reaching out and carefully (and he really was good about being careful with his claws around her) stroking her cheek. “Beatrice, I will figure this out. I made this mess, and I shall fix it.”

“Technically,” she breathed. “I was the one who let stupid vamps drag me off cause I was drunk off my ass.”

“Technicalities,” Lucifer repeated, winking. “I…I promise you will be alright.”

“I don’t want to be alright. I want to know what the hell being a miracle even means besides apparently I get to go to the front of the line for blood sacrifice.” Frustrated, she broke away from his touch and started to pace.

“Dad and his stupid lamb fixation, I swear,” Lucifer grumbled. “I will speak with Azrael first and then get word to John. After that, I should be able to get inroads, well better ones, to the mystical community here. We haven’t exactly been sociable these years at _Tenebrae_, more like indifferent at best.”

“I can imagine,” she riposted. “Maze didn’t piss anyone in the supernatural community off, did she?”

“Oh no, she’s too busy. Now, Ez on the other hand…”

“Ugh, not great.” Then, she hesitated as she worried her lower lip. “Lucifer, have you heard of a lot of miracle children before Mom?”

“No, Amenadiel swore that Penelope Decker was the only woman he ever blessed that way.”

“Just so we’re clear…he’s not like part my grandpa or something, right?”

“Dearie me, no. But he’s never blessed others before. Why?”

“Then, that’s…I don’t think Esmée was wrong because she was definitely banking on me shorting out your invulnerability, which hey, I do. So, I don’t know how she would know that unless there had been other miracle children crossing her path. She had to be telling the truth when she said I was her third.”

“But Amenadiel said---”

“Well she _told_ something to me before you barged in. Something about how God used his strongest warrior for my family, but before he always used to send his most loyal son. Does that mean anything to you?”

Lucifer cursed, and this time in English. She was impressed at the range he went through, including bleeding into some actually Brit expressions she’d never heard of but sounded utterly filthy. “Michael.”

“Like ‘Sword of God’ Michael?”  


“I should have bloody known. Of course, just because Amenadiel didn’t know about other miracle children, it didn’t mean that Father hadn’t making them for whatever his purposes were. I…finding him will not be hard.”

“Oh, do you speak often?”

Lucifer stalked to the shelves behind his bar with a vengeance and picked up a bottle of Scotch and a handle of vodka. He began to two fist both of them and didn’t speak for a very long time.

Trixie approached the bar and held her hand up. “Gimmie!”

“I’m not a child, and I can’t get soused, either.”

“I’m here, so we both know that you can get toasty at least.” She grasped at it from across the bar with her fingers. “I’m serious, Luci, give me both. I can’t…I need you sober.”

“Oh, I’m sober as a judge,” he groused, but he slid both bottles to her across what was left of the bar top. “I _need_ to be, let us say, _warmed_ before I deal with Michael.”

“Why?”

“He’s a right prick for one. For another, who do you think did Dad’s dirty work and actually, physically kicked me out of the Silver City?”

“Shit, Lucifer, you don’t have to call on him then. Forget I said anything.”

“No, let me get your protection in place, and I’ll put out feelers to John as well. I…Michael I can deal with.”

“If it’s hard…”

He sighed, and his wings flared out from his back, showing his irritation. “My life is always difficult, Beatrice.” He leaned across what was left of the bar top and focused his uncanny attention directly at her, flaming red eyes on her own. “You work hard to protect me. I know that you and Mazikeen both do, and while I do not need it---”

“Debatable.”

“I do _not_ need it,” he said, his voice gruffer than before. “So trust me and allow me take care of this and you.”

She wanted to ask if he was doing it because they were friends on their own or because he felt he owed it to her mom. Trixie wasn’t sure she wanted to know; after all, why look a gifted Devil in the mouth?

“If seeing Michael…”

“It will be fine, Beatrice. He can hardly kill me, can he? My erstwhile brother and I will talk everything out properly, and we’ll see what more being a miracle may entail for you.”

“Even more than crazy-hungry vampires?”  


“Perhaps there are benefits as well.” He reached for the Scotch, but thinking better off her glare, pulled his arm back to his side. “I’m not who I was. I am so very far from the archangel I used to be that I’m quite positive nothing divine is left in me.” He held up his claws and spread his wings wide. “How could there be?”

She wanted to say he had to be wrong. Something about the way his eyes danced with flames oddly enough felt divine to her. But it was not the time, so she deflected instead; it was what she was good at. “So, you’re saying you can take him this time?”  


Lucifer smiled, and it was a purely feral expression, reminding her a bit too much of last night’s nightmare for her taste. “I’m saying that my prick of a brother has never really tangled with the Devil. If he acts like a pain before me, well, maybe it’s his turn to have his arse kicked.”

“Cool, Maze, and I will make the popcorn!” she exclaimed, surprising herself with how much false cheer she could muster. Then, Trixie beamed back at him. “Well, hey so silver lining! I guess our deal’s postponed at least.”

“Oh my, why ever so?”

“Because of the great, scary vampire drama, and that’s a sentence in my life. I just said that, and it’s real.”

“You’re half-a-miracle, and you’re chatting with Abaddon. Is anything that odd anymore?”

“Definitely still room for weird,” she replied. “Seriously though, we don’t have to do that movie marathon, you know---”

His grin widened, and she knew that so many people who’d traded favors with him and lost out on their end of the deal had seen that look before. What exactly had she promised? _Note to self: no more blank checks for the Devil_. “Oh, we very much do. Tell me, urchin, have you even seen all the _Conan the Barbarian _films? You’re going to be enjoying them, I’m sure.”

She chuckled, despite all the panic still racing through her. At least with everything, she could count on Lucifer to make her laugh. “You really did run Hell, didn’t you?”

“Oh, spawn, I can promise you, no one knows torture like I do. No one.”


End file.
